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HISTORY 



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Princeton College. 



By Otto Crouse, Clhss Historian. 



JUNE, 1883. 



TRENTON, N. J.: 

MacCbELLISH 4 QUIGLEY, BoOK AND JOE PRINTERS, 1C EAST STATE STREET. 

1883. 






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PREFACE. I*- 



A N INTRODUCTION to the History of '83 were a useless 
-£*- task. It is too well known to you all — it was made by 
you. The object of the simple narration of events which fol- 
lows, is to keep ever fresh in your memories the most notable 
occurrences of four of the happiest and, we trust, most profit- 
able years of your lives. I have not aimed at a mere chrono- 
logical record of events; I have not attempted a philosophical 
history, penetrating into the cause and effect of what has here 
transpired. The motive underlying every act must be sought 
by the reader, while the results may be clearly discerned. I 
have made it my endeavor to stifle the imaginative faculty, 
and to lay before you the plain, unvarnished facts. Some, 
doubtless, have received an undue share of praise, while the 
record of the noble deeds of many have been left unnoticed. 
For these defects your Historian prays forgiveness. For the 
material aid he has received, he most heartily thanks those 
who have given their cheerful assistance. From those whose 
feelings are herein wounded, pardon is craved: Their record 
stands before the eyes of their class-mates as they made 
it. Four years of toil, fun and frivolity have knit us together 
a united band. Nothing has ever arisen to sever the bond 
which binds us close together. We have made the voyage 
safely, we have landed our bark at the haven of graduation. 
In our moments of joy let us recall the memory of those who 
have already stepped out upon the world's stage, and, above all, 
of those four unseen flowers of our shattered wreath. Three 



PREFACE. 



fell in our early course, and one after the brunt of half the 
battle had been faced. Their memories . we cherish dearly. 
They were as one of our brotherhood. 

Our earnest wish is that the lives of which our class is com- 
posed may prove worthy of Old Nassau ; that when the final 
roll-call is heard, we may all, with one harmonious voice, 
respond in accents telling of lives well spent and battles 
bravely won. 



Cluss History. 



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Verdant we as meadow grass, 
In Nassau Hall four years to pass- 
Exceeding green, but a " foine, foine clas9." 
Fresh! Fresh!! Fresh!!! 



WHAT a day it was ! Over a hundred raw atoms of hu- 
manity, from every village, farm, and city on the con- 
tinent, pouring open-mouthed and open-eyed, down the Old 
Chapel aisle, and stumbling with a broad grin into the seats 
where, for four years, they were to vex the tutor and perplex 
the Prof. Gazing on ourselves, with retrospective view, as 
we developed from Dan Dod and Billie Agnew to Clin Day, 
and from him to Ned Peace, we wonder what we were. 
Think of Brownie Seguin, who, amid the levees of New 
Orleans, yet found time to imitate him of the sunflower and 
the lily; of Wad, the silent masher of the base ball arena; 
of the twins of old Rome, Romulus and Remus, the insep- 
arable musical couplet, suffering from an organ-ic disease, 
which they could not overcome ; of Duane, the Newtonian 
mathematician, vociferous in speech, plenteous in side- 
boards ; Perry, the " class crew " and class masher of the 
Jersey coast ; of Jack Hodge, yesterday, to-day, and forever, 
the litterateur, the society leader, the financier of our motley 
brotherhood; — glance, I say, at this conglomerate mass of 
recency, and then sigh with the poet — 

I would that my tongue could utter 

The thoughts that arise in me, 
As I ponder upon that mixed-up mass 

Which is known as Eighty-three. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF 'I 



We must do our older comrades of Nassau the justice to 
say that they never lost an opportunity to remind us of our 
recent emerging from the shell — opportunities, alas ! too 
frequently given, and as readily seized upon, but of which 
a few will suffice. 

Once upon a time a youth of wofui countenance, and as 
bashful as his remote ancestor Peter, when the cock crew, 
sidled into our sanctum and offered us an extra number of 
The Princetonian and one share in Lord John's Butter Com- 
pany. Surprised at his liberality, we questioned the gentle 
lad, and found, to our horror, that he sought to bribe us ! 
It seems that when he had just arrived, and the bloom of 
Monmouth apple-blossoms still lingered on his cheek, he 
had meandered down to the Gym. Like Zaccheus, " small 
of stature," he passed unnoticed mid the giddy throng. 
With careful eye he inspected the dislocating apparatus of 
the Olympic aspirants. Yes, he concluded that the bath- 
tubs were too few for the Faculty, but the fellows would line 
them a hundred deep ; that the boxes were too large for 
lunch-baskets, but too small for sarcophagi ; that the dumb- 
bells were made of some opaque material; — all this was 
clear as noonday to his precocious intellect. But when he 
stumbled over the sponges in the bowling-alley, the soul of 
Peter sank within him. Gently, softly, he pranced up to a 
lord of '82, and modestly asked the use of those huge zoo- 
phytes ? The Sophomoric brow contracted, and Peter de- 
parted thence, to indite a letter to his loving parents, 
wherein he stated that "the Sophomores were too utterly 
disobliging," for he had only just discovered that " they 
didn't use sponges to sponge off Freshmen." 

Then there was Harsha. Early in '79 he announced 
himself a sensationalist — a Talmagian of the first water. 
Three nights he pondered with sleepless eye. "A scheme ! 
a scheme ! O, Bob, my diploma for a scheme !" On the 
fourth night the inspiration came. Clad as thinly as Arch- 
imedes, he cried "Eureka!" Baldwin's reply to this out- 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF 'i 



burst has been forgotten. Undaunted by his incivility, 
Pard explained : "Boys, you see this New York Herald? I 
light it, rush to the door, and give the alarm of fire. The 
whole College awakes, the fire department comes up. Be- 
hold!" There was a flash, a blaze, and the silent halls ot 
East rang with the cry of " fire !" But there was no fur- 
ther sound save the echo from West. Again the amateur 
basso of the coming choir bellowed forth the dread alarm. 
But with sorrow we state it — not a person showed his head 
— not an engine thundered along the stony street. Only 
from East came the heartless cry of two brutal Sophs, 
" Cork up, Fresh ! Go to bed !" And so ended the first 
and last sensation. The Heralds, thereafter, reposed quietly 
iu the corner and Harsha hid his diminished head. 

Once more. Soon after arriving, Phil announced that he 
was from Lehigh University ; that he left there with recom- 
mendations — not to return; had a letter of introduction 
which was going to carry him through Junior year, safe in 
the arms of Science and Religion ; that he came to Prince- 
ton only to take first honor and read Blackstone. All this 
he duly and gravely impressed on the minds of his fellow- 
sufferers, and was rewarded with the title of D. F., given 
him by the Sophs, whereat he rejoiced with exceeding great 
glee, supposing, as he said, that it meant Doctor of Fine 
Arts. Whatever it did mean, he knew it applied. A case 
of adult ambition, but chronic infancy. 

Well, he got the Blackstone, but first honor he missed by 
a large majority. And, in connection with the loss of that 
honor, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word would — 
yet stay! Before he had had his first dry shave and begun 
to cultivate a budding beard — just then he became ac- 
quainted with Borgmeyer. Now, one of the introspective, 
deep-thinking mind of Hicks, would ascribe the shearing 
of his honors to this rash acquaintance; let us, however, 
gaze upon the gloom of Princeton as it rose illumined by 
the electric light of Philadelphia's oracle on its first arrival 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 



there. Borgy, on whom our historical wrath must shortly 
fall, enticed this guileless youth into reconnoitering and 
"taking account of stock." And hark! on the listening 
ear of night, how softly fall the Franco-Germanic sounds, 
which softly flow o'er Queeuston; mark the sad melody 
which flows from Herr Borgmeyer's tongue, and amid it 
all, tbe sapient words of Furman Shephard Phillips, D. F., 
ex-Lehigh University. Then ! fellow-man, ask yourself if 
it is wonderful that Blackstone and first honor were forgot- 
ten, or that Borgy hastened to procure the several pictures of 
each individual sister of his, wherewith to deck the walls of 
4 S. B., until he could burglarize the Hightstown Gallery. 
That night was the end of Phil. His mind ever after soared 
aloft, and, save in the aesthetic, dwelt on fast horses alone. 

" Can auld acquaintance be forgot?" 
And, most of all, the memory of the recitation room of G. 
Bruce Halsted ? Either one of the Seven Wise Men or the 
expectorating Cam, or else Bob Burdette, said that " some 
men are wise and some are otherwise," and in the latter 
class perhaps we may place our mental photograph of Bruce, 
with feet cocked up and firing modern ideas at his hapless 
hearers. G. Bruce ! how many a memory clings around 
that name, parted as it is in the middle ! How that Flem- 
ming sought an immortality, and he of the silver tongue 
from the Keystone State Fell so firstly ! Este Fisher, too, 
he sought to cap our Halsted's jokes with such success that 
murmurs from the guardian deity of the third heaven came 
down. And even while our gentle G. B. sought but to show 
the class how to turn an orange inside out without breaking 
the skin, lo ! behind his placid back there whizzed an apple 
core, aimed by the practiced hand of Harsha, which impinged 
upon the Doctor's flowing locks at the critical angle, and pass- 
ing innocuously away, was unseen. Q. E. D. This gave us 
the proof of the fourth dimension without the diagram. For, 
the skin being unbroken, it only behooved G. Bruce to get 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 



outside his own skin with rage, which cost the unhappy 
Fisher two disorder marks, on " general principles." 

Was there ever a class free from oddities ? Take Landis. 
Who leaps with nobler bound than he at first honor, when 
there is " filthy lucre " therein ? When not so striving, he 
diverted his massive brain to the Boys of New York and the 
consideration of dime novels. Again, Pere was all right — 
he had no idea of tossing his brain from frying-pan to fire 
in order to gratify the <>l ndkkot, unless he saw a mathemati- 
cal fellowship casting its shadow before him. The auri sacra 
fames devoured him, and he generally reveled in what he 
received — more than an honest sire could make in a twelve- 
month. 

But of all the " cakes taken " in our tad-pole year, far 
surpassing queer, eccentric Landis, is Mindo George Vul- 
cheff, one time resident of the Moorish Tusculan Villa. He 
kept by himself, laboring only under harmless delusions. 

Now, as to Vulcheff, he was happy as could be; he looked 
Fresh ; he acted Fresh ; can any one wonder that there 
was a yell of laughter about his lost old hat, when his notice 
read thus? — 

Notice! Mistake! 

He who did the mistake will call at him whose hat he mistook, in 
the Library, and corrected it, or leave it with North College, No. 1, 

Or again, 

Lost ! ! 

He what took the hat by the Library inside, will correct it with me 
right away in my room. Mindo Vulcheff. 

But we regret to state that the unhatted Vulcheff never 
recovered his hat nor his co-ed. prep, smitten heart. 

And again, gazing back over the changing kaleidoscope 
of four } T ears of college life, we see some other figures not 
to be forgotten in eighty-three. Colt, of Babylon ! unearthed 
by Layard, exile from home. Lucy, of the Setting Sun ! 
Like Mark Twain, they wandered innocently abroad, and so 



4 
10 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

strayed into the devouring arms of Bick and Flick at bil- 
liards. " Oysters ? " said Bick. " 'Tis done," said the exile, 
and " Yea," said the Maiden. Their diminished pocket- 
books warned them of the dangers of the fast-rolling ball, 
and they were glad to stop when Bick proposed that he and 
Flick set up the oysters, if the two innocents do the same 
by " Mumm's Extra Dry." " Why, yes ! " said Colt. The 
oysters were devoured, and the happy four ambled in peace 
toward Hankins', to gaze on the hissing, bubbling, uncorked 
Mumm ; the two babes in the wood naturally supposing that 
their ransom was only the price of four raws. " Why," said 
Colt, " we'll do anything that's right and fair," and thought 
that half a dollar would make it square. But, alas ! when 
each innocent tired down his half dollar, when Bick and 
Flick had collared each his bottle, how sadly fell the faces of 
the Maiden and the Exile when Hankins blandly remarked 
" Three dollars ! " Colt and Lucy each gazed at each other. 
Each wept silently, and each implored Hankins for time. 
And since that time, though the Exile has wandered afar 
from the path of virtue, though the Maiden has met with 
many an unmaidenly adventure, they have never stumbled 
into a "right and fair" deal again. But the heart-broken 
looks with which they gazed on each other as they felt their 
well-worn, empty pockets, can never be forgotten. 

And now I approach that most indescribable of all earthly 
gatherings — a Fresh Class Meeting. An instantaneous 
photograph would no more do justice to it than a simul- 
taneous view of Sammy's and G. Bruce's recitation rooms. 
At that, this momentous gathering, naturally, Royle was 
chosen Chairman on account of his charming tout ensemble. 
Way was made Vice-President because he thought Royle 
might die soon, and Hodge, being of a pecuniary nature, 
became Treasurer. And then arose the blushing Walter 
Green — " he didn't want the office of Historian — but he 
thought the class ought to have one — and if he were so 
honored, he would do his little do — and didn't want the 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 11 

class to think — bat if they pressed " — and they did press 
the unhappy verdant Green to be seated ! But they elected 
him, from sympathy. Behind Prof. Hunt's desk stood 
Shorty, and so much resembled our revered instructor that 
he was elected for the term. The room was fragrant with 
" Sweet Caporal " — the Sophs were yelling " Fresh !" — 
forty men were on the floor — in short, the Freshman was 
in his glory — for Matt was not there. 

Amid the confused Babel of cries, of appeals to the 
Chairman, of requests, more forcible than elegant, to " Sit 
down !" to " Shut up!" still amid all this uproar came the 
voico of the Mormon, " keeping time, time, time, in a sort 
of Runic rhyme, to the beating of a rhetoric on the desk," 
until he saw it was useless, and subsided into his curule 
chair. And then arose the form of Rudcl. Said he : " Mr. 
President and gentlemen, I feel forced to get up this after- 
noon (come off!) — I say I feel forced to say a word. Now 
the crew are here (No! No!) and they sit here; but, Mr. 
President, I think we ought to take our hats off, because 
we are expecting a great deal from our crew — but they 
shouldn't smoke when they come to class-meeting — and I 
feel forced to say that we are expecting — " but right here 
the class had resolved itself into an indignation meeting, 
and the whole crew decided to have the nuisance abated, or 
to abolish class meetings. Class meetings were not abol- 
ished. And Rudd never came up again prominently before 
the class until lacrosse came into vogue. 

Then the class wanted a constitution — why, it would be 
no class without a constitution. So we drew on the legis- 
lative abilities of the class, but alas ! no constitution came 
forth, and we drifted Rudd-erless on the shores of '83. 

Along in October, we were all thrown into a state of the 
greatest excitement and indignation. The cause thereof 
was the issue of '82's proclamation, graciously granting us 
permission to carry canes on and after a certain fixed date. 
We had neglected to issue our proa, giving these same 



12 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

Sophomores our gracious permission to issue theirs. It was 
now too late to do this, and the Freshman dignity was much 
wounded. To be sure, no one was willing to admit that 
the proc. was worth anything. Why, certainly not. It 
merely said we would " Rue the Day," and a few other 
things of that sort that only showed the littleness of the 
Sophomoric intellect. But, nevertheless, something must 
be done. '83 could not — must not bear the insult. But 
when was ever nation in difficulties that some hero did not 
spring upon the scene of action ? Rome had her Cincin- 
natus, '83 had her Preach Hawes. Nay, '83 had two heroes. 
It is with pride that our humble pen inscribes the name of 
Duck Earner. Pach had just erected a new studio by the 
depot; and thither these two intrepid spirits went one dark 
night, accompanied by paint-pot and brush. When morn- 
ing dawned, the College gazed in amazement upon the 
motto, painted in huge white letters upon the brown side of 

the studio — 

" '82, CLASS OF ASSES." 

The day was won ! Our dignity was preserved ! And 
Preach and Duck placed '83 under a debt of gratitude that 
four long years has been unable to repay. 

When Dick Eorris entered the class, he roomed with 
Green — not S'Green, the " wreck of the Jersey coast," 
but Green, the Jay Gould of '83. Dick was not always 
modest and bashful. He had within him those qualities 
which make a society man, and which first shone out so 
brilliantly at the Fresh reception. His conversation with 
his room-mate was refined and polished, and Green at once 
saw that, like Alexander, he had only to weep for other 
worlds to conquer. Ergo, Dick made his debut in Prince- 
ton society with all the prospects of an accidental Czar. 
Boldly he strode within, meekly he sat down within, peace- 
fully staid within. Like Homer's goddess of morning, the 
rosy-fingered aurora suffused his maiden cheeks. Nerv- 
ously he jerked at his cuffs, spasmodically he strove to settle 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 13 

his cravat, and how pitifully he smiled. Ever and anon 
would break in on the silence such words as " Why, Mr. 
Norris, how utterly alone you seem." " Yes'm," he fal- 
tered. " The weather is only too lovely, Mr. Norris, or do 
you prefer the soft and soothing airs of Summer ?" " Ya-as, 
I think I should like it." Eye-glasses to the fore — cuff's 
pulled down — cravat adjusted. "I surmise, Mr. Norris, 
that your thoughts often wander into the unknown, beatific 
days when you will have migrated beyond the misty line 
which bounds the days of comparative verdancy from those 
which statu! the test of knowledge, gained through sad ex- 
perience. Do you not?" " Well, I don't know, but I heard 
Walter say something about it the other day." 
"In fact," she continued, " dear sir, are you not 

' Standing with reluctant feet 
Where the brook and river meet 
Womanhood and childhood sweet?' 

In other words, Mr. Norris, you are a Freshman, are 
you not ?" 

One more pull at collar and cuffs. Dick stood it until 
the beads stood upon his noble brow, even as he has seen 
the father of apple bead in a later day. He fixed his vitre- 
ous optic on the door, and, seeing his chance, slid out, hur- 
ried to his room, where, by the nine gods, he swore that the 
great houses of Princeton should see him never more. 
Then unto the house of Riley, whose patronym is Pat, he 
sold his evening dress suit, and went content with that. A 
part he sold for " sweet caps," a part he sold for " night 
caps." The rest he took to Trenton on which his soul is 
bent on. 

We were treated like all Freshman classes. We were 
hooted at, " right-lefted," and sold at auction; we were the 
subjects of many other equally harmless, but extremely ex- 
asperating, attentions. As a rule, we took all these in good 



14 HISTOBY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

part. To be sure, Ed. Royle and Fred Rutan were known 
to retaliate, by throwing back the taunt, "Soph! Soph!" 
But they were exceptions. However, when '81 proposed a 
rush, it was gladly acceded to; for there existed in every 
one of us a deep sense of wrong and a strong desire to vent 
our spite upon — yes, to utterly annihilate — those haughty 
Sophs. The time and place were settled. At ten o'clock 
on the evening fixed, eighty Freshmen were formed in com- 
pact line. But time was wasted in discussion, as it always 
is. And, just as we were starting, the great figure of Matt 
appeared, and we were ordered to disperse. We waited as 
long as possible, and then disbanded. Some one shouted, 
" Lover's Lane ! " And to Lover's Lane we started, on a 
dead run. The Junior's were there. Our line was formed 
anew on Mercer street, and deputations were sent to find 
'82. But '82 was not to be found. It seems that Matt, after 
our sudden departure, had started in quest of the Sophs. 
And they, ordered home, like good children, had departed. 
For over half an hour, excited and determined, we stood in 
firm, solid line. And it was not till the news of '82's dis- 
persion was fully confirmed that we broke ranks and went 
home. We were disappointed : and another rush was being 
secretly arranged. But Matt was anxious to avoid the dan- 
ger consequent upon a rush, and one afternoon we were 
informed that a rope had been provided, and the two lower 
classes were at liberty to try their strength in a rope pull. 
The idea was a novel one ; and at the appointed time the 
two lower classes were present in large force, back of Wither- 
spoon. The rope was produced, a great steamboat hawser, 
apparently — and the fun began. At the word, every man 
exerted all his strength. A moment, and the rope gave. 
Thinking we had pulled over our antagonists, we started a 
cheer, which prematurely died, as every man dropped heavily 
to the ground. The rope had broken. That seemed to set- 
tle the matter for the present. We stopped to await develop- 
ments, but not so, '82. While we were standing unconcern- 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 15 

edly by, the Sophs were hurriedly gathering up the rope. 
Urged by a desire to balk '82 in anything, although we did 
not know the meaning of their movements, we at once laid 
hold of a small piece lying near; but not until the larger 
portion had in some mysterious way disappeared. The con- 
test waxed exciting. Small trees near the Gymnasium 
were utilized as stanchions to wind the rope about. Great 
were the deeds of strength and valor! Many were the 
Freshman who released their hold only when their faces 
grew black under the choking grasp of one Sophomore 
giant! We retained about 100 feet of the rope; '82 had 
twice that amount. But '82 did not secure their portion by 
strength and pluck, but by simply carrying it off before we 
realized that any honor lay in retaining it. On examination 
it turned out that the rope had not broken, but was cut; 
and not only that, but was cut within '82's line. So that it 
looks very much as if the Sophs, fearing our larger numbers 
and greater weight, had planned the affair with a view to 
getting an advantage over us, which we did not know was 
considered an advantage. Our portion was taken to 1 E. 
M. W., occupied by George Way and Jenny, and there cut 
up and distributed as mementoes; while without, a howling 
crowd of Sophs gazed in through the windows. The next 
week, a young Tennyson published in The Princetonian the 

following: 

" They broke that little rope in two, 
And Matt was sad. 
The Faculty's pacific scheme into wild riot grew, 
And Matt was mad." 

Eighty-three will never forget her base ball record of 
seventy-nine. Wadleigh, Barclay, Noble, Jim Harlan, 
Rutan, Hardcastle, Shankliu, Walter Green and Buck An- 
trim constituted the nine. Flint dropped base ball shortly 
after his arrival and polled for recreation. The common 
belief is that he became weary of this endeavor. Eighty 
and eighty-one were played in succession. The maroon of 



16 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

'83 was afloat, but the vicissitudes of fortune forbade us the 
victory. The opera blue and silver gray of eighty-two were 
still to be met in combat. The Sophs turned out in full 
force and heartily applauded our nine — in every error. The 
maroon was not half so loud as the opposing colors, and so 
the game was " rattle." At the close cheers and hisses were 
mingled. Eighty-two were sure to win, but — ! But, alas! 
for eighty-two ! And, so, in September, the last state of the 
Sophs was worse than the first, and the joyful Freshmen 
carried away its rare and exceptional honor of disciplining 
the Second year. The result was but a foreshadowing of 
'83's future career in the world of sports, and well has she 
sustained her quadrennial renown. 

When Jerry Haxall first took his seat in Dr. Halsted's 
room at his virgin recitation, no one foresaw the flute-like 
soul of Campanini which abode within him, or saw the vista 
which spread before him o'er his college course. There was 
nothing sufficiently feline about him to show his affinity to 
the Tiger, and it may be safely said that he was neither single 
nor twin, for he was a Triplett. When he softly remarked 
that he was " unprepared on the first book, sir," Bruce's 
mustache began to bristle. " College is no place, sir, for a 
man," he sternly said, "who cannot respond to my exceed- 
ingly simple interrogations. You are large enough to know 
better." A crimson flush came o'er the face ot Jerry, v\ hich 
slowly faded as he dimly foresaw the ninety-eight which he 
was to receive at Christmas examination. 

But Trip was not to sojourn in this " very valley of Humili- 
ation." The deadly grip which rested on his nascent lip- 
protector revealed the fact that his teeth were set in fell 
determination. His first strike was the Glee Club, and then, 
like him of Macedon, he sighed for other worlds to conquer. 
He found one in less than a month, for just then a phrenolo- 
gist ambled into town, and not only electrified the Triplett 
by telling him he had the most Apollo-like physique of any 
man in Nassau, but a Jove-shaped brain. He forgot George 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 17 

Fleming. This fired the Southern heart, and that night 
amid his myrmidons he quaffed the flowing bowl to that 
classic brow. 

Mirabile dictu ! That symmetrical cranium soon began 
to lose its rounded outline. It grew, it swelled, it increased, 
and ere long it felt the need of outer air. Borden was 
visited, and under his inspiring influence a happy thought 
flashed in the Haxallian brain. He would ascend a tree- 
box which adorned the side-walk before his beloved's domi- 
cile, and there, in the balmy hours of night, would warble 
a serenade. The scene was peaceful. Even Este Fisher, 
who was supporting the tree, murmured indistinctly, 
" Boysh, keep shtill and let 'im shing." Soon the air was 
resonant with the silver notes of an unsurpassed tenor, 
" Oh, why art thou not near me, O my love ?" " Yes, I'll 
be near you, idiot !" and down came an avalanche of water. 
They had stumbled over the wrong residence, and there 
was no music in the owner's soul. The echo to the splash 

of fluid was Wad's contemplative " D n fool ! he might 

have known better." 

It was shortly after this that the mashing proclivities of 
Jim Archer reached their growth. He resembled Rendall, 
the mighty masher of '81, yet there is a variance. Jim had 
just pranced out on his maiden mashing tour, and, near the 
Methodist Church, his radiant eyes fell on a couple of Eve's 
fairest daughters. He settled his eye-glass, hemmed and 
hawed slightly — and, like Csesar, he rushed across the Rubi- 
con ! Stealing softly to their side, with less embarrassment 
than he afterward showed in the palmy South when he 
offered to " assist " a damsel in the giddy waltz, he greeted 
them with all the chivalry of his Southern blood. But, lo ! 
behind him lurked the dusky forms of Flint and Fell, unseen 
by James, whose thoughts were elsewhere. No sooner had 
he addressed his charmers, than there rang on the evening 
air the cry which not long after set Rendall on a " go-as- 
you-please." Jim, fearing the consequences, fled from his 
2 



18 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

enchantresses like the gazelle, sped through the yielding 
clay, down by the base-ball grounds, past Prof. Young's 
house, and at last sank in utter exhaustion within his room. 
Next day Flint congratulated Archie on his kindness in 
leaving the maidens, and drew from each pocket an overshoe 
which James had lost in his wild retreat, at the same time 
setting him wild by informing him of the noble time that he 
and Fell had passed with those radiant demoiselles after his 
flight. But for this slight incident, the Belair masher might 
have pursued the even tenor of his College way in peaceful, 
unremarked repose. However, his nervousness again came 
forth at the White Sulphur Springs, whereof it is written 
in the chronicles of the West Middle Witherspoon gang, 
yclept '83's Blunderbuss. 

Amidst these minor things, the class was winning the 
fame which was due to the brilliancy of its powers. Cane 
sprees had bloomed and faded, and to our sorrow we must 
say, many canes had faded with them. The same pranks 
were played, the same verdancy bloomed forth, and so, when 
Landy Green appeared on the Campus, with somewhat 
peculiar gait, two Sophomores fell upon him, and lightened 
his weight by removing from his trouser-leg a cane which 
he had carefully inserted therein for purposes of practice. 

Again, Borgy appears on the stage. He and Dunning had 
wandered forth one Saturday, and meeting a bramble-bush, 
concluded to cut a cane. and, proh pudor ! carry it into town. 
Dunning advised bis exuberant companion not to pack that 
cane, but he shouldered it, not recognizing the philosophy 
of his Teutonic comrade. Cane in hand, he strode the 
streets of Princeton with the same majestic air with which 
he proposed three cheers for Dr. Prime in Examination 
Hall. Soon he reached the entrance to the Campus which 
faces Dr. Dufheld, all the while rejoicing in his valor. In 
fact, he was the Achilles of '83. But he ceased his glee 
when Critchlow, and a few other fellow would-be bruisers 
of '82, came on the scene, and a foot race was the conse- 



HISTORY OF THE GLASS OF '83. 19 

quence. Now Borgy, being built like one of his national 
Dutch galleons, somewhat broad in the beam, is not built 
for fast-sailing, and while 'twas worth ten years of peaceful 
life to gaze upon the fray, the remorseless clutch of '82 tore 
from the grasp of Borgy his baculus, and he departed a 
sadder and a wiser man. One of Borgy's few faults was 
that he never could see why he and the class could not 
agree. 

When the first mad whirl of joining College had died 
away, before the verdant eye of '83 arose the Spree of 
Horns. The mere fact that several of '82 had prematurely 
departed from our classic shades because of such an out- 
burst, only lent fresh charm to the idea. 

'Twas Friday night. Midnight was over town. Long 
before that hour there were gathered on the Campus knots 
of resolute youth, some reckless, some fortified with a touch 
of Dutch courage, some quaking at the prospect of a visit 
to the ancestral mansion, but all with horn in hand, bent on 
the fray. As the ranks closed up, wonder was shown that 
George "Washington was there. It must be he ! the size, 
the voice, the color, were those of George. But when it 
was found that Harsha had anointed himself with burnt 
cork, a mighty laugh arose amid that Freshman band. It 
may be that his mad ambition to orate on G. W., February 
22d, had prompted him to darken his visage — who can say ? 
So writes Historian Green, and so he tells " how the starry 
night lay soft and still, how the eternal planets looked down 
from their ethereal dome, how a hundred hearts beat fast 
and glad, and gathered for the Feast of Trumpets." 

As the last shock of twelve died on the air of night, there 
floated forth a strain of music. Some of you may have 
listened to St. John's attempt at " Home, Sweet Home," on 
his organ, or hearkened to the Class Glee Club addressing 
" The Morning Sun " in discordant tones. But this was 
naught! Under the leadership of Jim Harlan, a hundred 
horns broke forth in melody, causing Prof. Hunt to think 



20 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

that the days when the rams' horns sounded in front of 
Jericho had returned. A silence fell, and then again the 
chorus sounded. Cam was not forgotten, nor the tutors, 
and what was lacking in response was fully made up in 
greeting. The army drew near the Campus, and Bruce 
awoke to hear the doleful sound. Matt, the ubiquitous, 
however, dawned upon the gang, and before his burly form 
the stars of '83 vanished like the dying sparks of a rocket, 
Matt representing the stick or propelling power. And then 
arose the shout " On to the Prep. !" In close array, eight fur- 
longs marched the host eastward, thoughtfully removing the 
water-cart as a Gatling gun. In truth, it was a noble sight ! 
Half a dozen forms hauling on that old cart, the rest yell- 
ing like madmen. When Prep, was reached, the watering 
cart was carefully deposited in its natural fluid, with the 
tongue protruding from the surface of the lake, and, accord- 
ing to ancient custom, a bon-fire arose. The stock of corn- 
stalks was not abundant just then, that is, the labors of the 
tillers of the soil had not been rewarded as well as usual, 
but under the arms of the invading host, the fire was fed. 
Like the clapper of College, the Prep, gate required replen- 
ishing with each succeeding year, and the Fall of '79 was 
no exception. True, the wild words of the Prep, guardian 
fell with appalling force upon us, but he might as well have 
staged the devouring flame which lit the scene as stay '83 in 
its mad career. When nothing but the hinges of the gate 
remained, the line of march was taken some three hundred 
and twenty rods toward the Athenian institution, known as 
the Scientif. Felonies were perpetrated. The borough tax 
was raised by our thoughtful ness in enlarging the escape of 
corporation gas. On the return march, care was taken to 
remove the gates along the route to save trouble in passing 
out, which drew forth blessings next morning from many a 
devout heart, which was grateful that it was not a gate. 

So ended the Horn Spree. It comes but once. To some 
it comes once too often. The Fates were with us, Matt was 
not, hence our undivided band. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 21 

It has been said that our base ball conflict with '82 was 
but a Veni, Vidi, Vici, affair, but to the close observer it will 
be seen that our real strength was in our feet — foot-ball ! 
One defeat was enough to settle the gentle soul of '82. They 
found they were short of pluck at athletics, and so relieved 
themselves in the Fresh Proc. Our Fresh team was as fol- 
lows : Eushers — Fleming, Way, P. Peace, Wanamaker, 
Earner; Quarter-back — Rogers; Half-backs — Harlan, Hax- 
all, Baker, E. Peace ; Back — Hodge. They appeared first 
at Lawrenceville. Now, one would suppose it difficult for 
the fellows to stop at this half-way house 'twixt Nassau and 
the Legislative Halls of the Assanpink, whither we have 
wandered oft to gaze on the colossal grandeur of the Capitol 
of the State. But on this seventh day of November, '79, we 
gathered in force ; we halted ; soft whispers had floated 
through our ears that at Lawrenceville was a Fern. Sem. 
Notwithstanding the fact that Antrim and St. John, the 
giddy, had frequently inflicted themselves on the easily- 
mashed hearts of the co-eds. of Hightstown, yet a gallant 
band was mustered there from '83, who lent their counte- 
nance to the first foot-ball game of the class, and their beam- 
ing smiles to the " airy, fairy Lilians" who gathered thereto. 
Like the " colored troops," the Preps, fought nobly, but 
when the dark and bloody fray was o'er, they had only zero 
to place by our goal and six touch-downs. Columbia next 
tried the mettle of the Fresh team of '83, at Hoboken. The 
powers of Harlan and Peace sent terror to the heart of the 
City of Pretzels, and so they sought the safety game. Early 
in the second half, a most notable decision was made by the 
referee, to wit : that Wanamaker failed to make a touch- 
down by half an inch, which he gauged by the extent of his 
knowledge. But the boys rallied — a rush was made, and 
two goals and one touch-down to a zero plus four safeties 
justified the triumphant cheer of Princeton. So ended '83's 
foot-ball year of Fresh. We had met the enemy and they 
were ours. Peaceful though he was, we must lay a garland 



22 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 

on our comrade's brow. Bolder rusher never met the foe, 
better captain never led his host to the fray. 

2 S. E. ! What memories rise ! Here the wealth of 
Barclay vanished for peanuts at poker ; here the gorge of 
Baldwin rose at his first cigarette ; here Murdoch borrowed 
his first taste of the filthy weed ; here the jovial occupants 
of East put in seven days, at ten hours per day, each revolv- 
ing week. In fact, the question often arose, " Who owns this 
room ? " Halsted gave it out as an " optional " during second 
term, but the results were all theoretical and approximate, 
being based on the Bric-a-Brac and Catalogue. 2 S. E. glit- 
tered with costly furniture. Here Hicks, imagining an un- 
seen foe within the sleeping-room, wildly cried, " I am worth 
a million! With these hands I slew three men by blue 
Pacific shores ! " 

The events of that apartment would fill a whole edition 
of a dime novel. One thing I must tell, for the face of Soc 
Murdoch blushed thereat for the first and only time. It 
was no unusual night; the usual gang was there, the usual 
programme gone through with, the usual College jokes 
were committed. But a retrospective gloom abode above 
the pensive soul of Hicks, while others rejoiced ; besides 
Lucy, the only blushing damsel within that smoke-compel- 
ling Freshman crowd, Peter Rue and Soc Murdoch gazed 
through the smoke. When Hicks recovered from his dark- 
some mood, the customary circus began. Out went the 
light, fast and furious flew the cushions, yet these irresist- 
ible bodies met an immovable body in the shape of Hicks' 
head. He sought to flee, but the door was shut. He hav- 
ing sought another resting-place, the cushions again rained 
upon that soft and tender head, the subject of debate for 
four long years, until, in a rage, he was allowed to escape. 
One would naturally think that here the curtain would fall, 
but it was only Act I, Scene I. Scene n opens on the hall 
of S. E. twenty minutes later, the voice of Hicks screaming 
" Halloa ! Bob ! " Being answered, he said that he had no 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 23 

use for Bob, but wanted to know if Bob was there. Then 
Vic appears once more, and in Scene III recites in tragic 
tones " The Raven," and gives a thrilling picture of Bates, 
a pedagogue of Frisco, who ever termed him by the endear- 
ing name of " unsophisticated ass." The hot blood of the 
West was at its fever heat; the "Casey Social Club" was 
done up in true dramatic style, and, unobserved, Harlan 
slipped forth, and returning, rapped with vigorous rap upon 
the door. The whisper, "Matt," caused an exodus; Jim 
asked for Hicks, and when told that Hicks was not there, 
persisted. A fear fell on all, save Harsha and a few other 
gallant spirits. Lucy did not scare, but only hid himself 
from maiden modesty, yet, dimly outlined in the gloom, his 
No. 14's stuck forth. Hicks sought concealment beneath a 
card-table, three by two, but broke it down. Then he fled 
to the window, but the wire screen forbade such exit. He 
was the similitude of misery. And all the time Jim abode 
without, hammering on the door and calling aloud the name 
of Hicks. Vic had donned his ulster and sought the lowly 
retreat beneath the bed, but this was already occupied by Soc 
and Peter. At last Jim departed and Vic was advised to slide 
out of his clothes and glide gently to his couch. It need not 
be said that he covered four steps at each bounding leap. 
But when he reached the fifth floor, alas ! his key was gone. 
He entered the coal-bin, lay there, enjoyed the coal dust for 
an hour and a half, and then, finding his key, emerged a 
dirtier man, and sought his bed without disrobing. To this 
day, Vic is sure that it was Matt, aud smiles with scorn at 
any other wise theory. When the heat of battle had sub- 
sided, two men of '83 were gone — Pete and Soc. But soon 
they emerged from the bed-room, and piteously asked if Matt 
had gone, and if he had spotted all the fellows. Soc blushed 
moistly ; suffice it to say that the shelter they sought was not 
large enough for two. Peter was carried home, and came 
with trembling step toward chapel in the early morn. Soc 



24 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

thought it a close shave. Pete told his father that his 
health would probably require a short vacation soon. 

There are many other stories of the old room, but 
space forbids. Days of pleasure passed in that Eastern pal- 
ace, and, during the April vacation, it was the scene of the 
revelry calling forth The Princetonian wit in the well-known 
article " Heauton Timouroumeuos." 

Again Jerry steps forth. It was the time when he and 
Phil Peace roomed at Mrs. Smith's, down beyond the depot. 
He had been out — perhaps to a protracted meeting of two. 
It amounted to that, anyhow, for when he got back to the 
house he naturally couldn't find his keys. They were not 
in his watch, which he thought was the only pocket he ever 
carried them in. Up and down the board-walk he strode, 
gently murmuring, "Oh, no; I'll never get so any more," 
until Phil recognized those angel tones, and dashing open 
the window, cried, " "What wash the matter?" When Jerry 
told his pitiful tale, the keys of Philip fell upon his head. 
He lay prostrate. Two fellows, passing by, investigated 
Jerry and found him flat on mother earth, seeking the lock. 
They told him that the key-hole was more likely to be in 
the door than in the grass. Strange to say, Phil soon saw 
the trouble, and, as he had been up all night before polling 
taxidermy, his only study, his head was not upon the level. 
He took his lamp; he held it from the window, saying, 
"Trip, here's the lamp; take it, and you can find 'em." 
Jerry raised such a howl that the lamp didn't come, but 
Phil did, unarmed, unprotected and unclad, and received 
the missing sheep within the fold. 

Around Old East howled the blasts of Winter; from their 
state of verdancy the boys had not yet emerged. Two S. E. 
was a mystery, but the town poster remarked that a concert 
would be given by four escaped convicts from '83. Here 
lay the mystery. The wild guesses previously made, that 
half a dozen men were learning to play on musical instru- 
ments, or that Vic Hicks was again flying the "Raven," 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 25 

were forgotten. It was the quartette, making night hideous 
for the coming storm. Several lives turned upon that point. 
The night arrived; with a few disinterested persons, the 
quartette greeted Rocky Hill from the height of a farm 
wagon. It wasn't a cold night, but the boys shivered and 
shook and swore, and more than once Jim Harlan said, 
"Now, fellows, lay yourselves out. We'll get asked again." 
" Take front seats, gentlemen," smiled the urbane usher, as 
the stately four strode within those hallowed walls. Bob 
Shanklin was smitten with a happy thought — "We are a 
band of Sophomores," said he to the manager, but when the 
manly forms of some of '82 appeared within the portal, they 
changed their base, and confessed their guilt, as meek and 
lowly Freshmen. The first selection was, "Mother, May I 
Go Out to Swim ?" Bob came out, then Jim, then Harsha, 
then Barclay. Bob sought to warble ; he had got half way 
through the first stanza when Barclay caught up; he having 
stumbled up the steps, his nerves were naturally composed. 
The piece began too low down, so when " Don't go near the 
water" arrived, no sound was heard save the titter of the 
audience and the rapid heart-throb of the warblers. After 
about two minutes they tried the second verse — at the other 
end of the scale. They finally got through, and more from 
pity than from praise, were vigorously encored. Next came 
"The Bull-Dog," a comparatively new selection for the 
boys. This time no one fell up-stairs, but all took their 
positions with grace and dignity, as though to the manor 
born. Still they could not pull together. Jim and Harsha 
had about two laps start of Bob and Barclay, but they 
caught on at, and blended in ecstatic harmony on, "the bull- 
dog in the pool." Barclay then discoursed " The Golden 
Slippers," which the other three not knowing, the chorus 
was hummed in unison. The concert was finished by Rocky 
Hill genius, as the scope of the quartette was only these 
three songs. Their name was made, however. There, be- 
hind the church, amid the lonely graves of forgotten dead, 



26 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

the men of Rocky Hill erected a wooden monument to these 
forgotten four. Had they staid, they would have slumbered 
beneath it. But, were the story to close here, the golden 
thread that bound the hearts of at least one loving couple 
would have remained unknown, or at least forgotten. 

The entire company, including Life and White, from '82, 
were invited to a neighboring farm-house, there to gloat on 
the rustic appreciation of College boys. The boys were a 
little unfamiliar, but when the girls reminded them of the 
days of '55, '60 and '70, they rubbed up their memories of 
those by-gone days, they thought upon long-ago Lits., and 
answered intelligently. Every fifteen minutes some hea- 
venly voice would break upon the air, and across the luxury- 
laden atmosphere would float the words — " Won't the Glee 
Club sing?" The Glee Club would then chime in with 
" The Golden Slippers," second it with " The Bull-dog," 
and after remarking that they were a little hoarse, retired 
into oblivion. Bob was hoarse, sure; Jim gazed on the sole 
of his shoe ; Harsha, as usual, was feeling as though there 
was no boarding-house from Dan even unto Beersheba, 
while Barclay plaintively rubbed his bruised shin. But 
when they mingled in the mazy waltz, Bob, like Richard, 
was himself again. All night he had sought to brace up, 
but now he reached his zenith. Here arose the lasting feud 
between him and Landy Green. Both fell at the feet of the 
same charmer, both had a desperate determination to dance 
with her, and only her, at the same moment. It began to 
look desperate — blood was in Bob's eye — but on tossing up 
a penny, Landy won and swung away amid the dancers. 
This settled Bob. No more upon his classic features 
beamed the child-like smile which illumined it of yore. He 
spake no word, but, like the victor, subsided, a total wreck. 
So ended the entertainment which caused Skinner, the 
sweet singer of '81, to chant, in undying Homeric verse, the 
lot of the participants. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 27 

There are few who pass through a four-years' course with- 
out once having the thrilling feeling of having attended a 
circus, whether in his Freshman days or later on. It came 
for us in our embryonic, unfledged state. We knew what 
effect a circus has — any idiot of a Fresh knows that. But 
we didn't know that a few hundred reckless youth might 
raise a much larger circus within the one advertised. I 
need not speak of that night; you all do know it well — how 
the Sophs had fixed the clown, and how wild waxed that 
elephant in this yelling crowd of undergraduate humanity. 
It is enough to say — Mat was there ! Previous to this a 
deed had been done, the performance of which the College 
bell rang out with the coming dawn. The long ago custom 
of securing the clapper, which, of right devolves upon the 
Freshmen, had wearied, for many weeks, the massive brain 
of the Scientifs. All they knew, all they dreamed of, was 
bent upon that clapper. How could they do it? More 
than once were they beaten in their praiseworthy endeavor. 

Matt and the captain were just two too many for first term 
Maths. Landy Green had found out that the windows fac- 
ing Nassau street and opening into the well-known Geology 
room were left unfastened. He and Richardson and the im- 
mortal Sam Smith then wove a cunning device. 

The night was dark. The three sought the shades of 
North just as the "owl " tooted past the Junction. They 
raise the window. Landy tumbles within. The watchman 
comes round the corner. Landy weakly murmured, " It is 
all up ! " but he was so scared that he omitted to state 
whether he meant the window or his college course. 

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

But strong to meet the storm, 
A creature of heroic blood, 

That noble Freshman form ! 

He knew that if he let the window fall, it would not be " all 
up," except to the other side of the proposition. Rick, see- 
ing Landy's awkward fix, began to act in a suspicious man- 



28 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

ner, peculiar to the blossoming Scientif. First he walked 
off as though he had stolen the " Fossil " from the Museum. 
The watchman, dark laDtern in hand, follows. Then Rick 
started at a six-days' gait — his shadowy pursuer did the 
same. Down by the Scientif., toward the Prep., back again, 
up to East College, leaped that stricken deer, the short- 
legged captain slowly, but surely behind. And the luckless 
Green stood shivering meantime on his post, half dead with 
cold, but faithful to the last, and fearful of every foot-fall. 
But presently Sam Smith, who had prudently hied him to 
his own room, came back and asked Landy " What in 
Heaven's name he was freezing out there for ? " He hopped 
down off that window-sill, and when the chill morning 
dawned, the chimes of seven rang as usual on the wintry 
air. But, as stated, all this happened when there was no 
circus in town. When Forepaugh was there, the thoughts 
of the College custodians were wholly diverted from every- 
thing save the big show and the disorder there. In fact, 
they didn't care for order anywhere, for Zazel didn't make 
her appearance until a year later. This time Green, Tim 
Rogers, George Way, and Rainsford constituted the daring 
and venturous crowd. Jenny, too, was there. Enough had 
gathered by this time to strike down the guard, and press 
boldly on to victory. When the clown, however, grinned 
his first loud grin, from afar the captain heard the answering 
roar, and with instinctive speed he hied him as though some 
vagrant Soph sped before his feet. Now came the climax. 
Again the window rises ; they enter. The door from Scott's 
room falls with a crash like thunder, the roof is reached, to 
the bell-tower they climb, Rainsford remaining on guard 
below. Just then the clash rang out — ten ! on ears cemented 
with Mississippi cotton. With the only available wrench in 
town, the clapper was drawn like a back-tooth, and down- 
ward they sped by the same precarious route, silently steal- 
ing away when they had hidden their ill-gotten booty. The 
next morning the few devout awaited in vain the stroke of 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 29 

seven — no stroke of eight resounded on the chilly air, and 
the strange sound at chapel time showed that Clapper No. 2 
was there. 

There are darker deeds behind, which in other days would 
be branded as burglary, but with us they counted as play- 
spells. For instance, the wild, strange story might be told 
how hard the Scientifs strove to gain Tod's paper in French 
— how they got false keys, and when with stealthy steps they 
approached the room, alas ! the keys were missing ; how 
Sammy's paper was yearned after, how they waited, patient 
as the long-suffering ass, until he left his chamber; how they 
gained entrance and captured half a dozen old Greek text- 
books, while no sign of examination paper dawned upon 
their disappointed view. Or again, how, when it was known 
that Bruce's paper must pass through Duff's hands for ap- 
proval, Bruce's box was watched with eager longing — the 
post-office was besieged — every drop-letter was asked for 
which fell within his box, taken to a room, opened with 
trembling fingers of fear and hope, and one found to read 
as follows : 

" My Dearest Mr. Halsted : 

Nightly do I devoutly pray that the noise which emanates from 
your geometrical sanctum may be abated. There has as yet been no 
cessation, wherefore, also, I would beseech you to assist me in this 
humble duty. Your brother professor, S." 

Yet all these adventures had a purpose. There were 
other deeds which sprang from the simple wish to do some- 
thing, though what, was not quite clear. Butler was a man 
who never took anything, but finding a bottle which resem- 
bled stimulant in Perry's room, he partook thereof and 
straightway ejected the same. It was cologne. After this, 
Butler, like his namesake of New Orleans, would take any- 
thing — in fact he once took a chill under circumstances 
which I may not name. He and Baldwin conceived the 
brilliant idea that an entrance into Rockwood's room at 



30 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

night was advisable. About ten o'clock, therefore, they 
were prowling round Scientif., pondering how to enter. 
Now Joe's mathematical genius, blended with Butler's 
political sagacity, led them to think that the sharp-pointed 
bars before the windows once surmounted, the glorious work 
was done. Unhappily Joseph was too large to crowd inside 
of six inches of bars, so Butler helped him up. But Joe 
was not limber of limb, and woe ! his unmentionable gar- 
ment caught, and, like an eel new-captured, he hung wrig- 
gling. Now, Joe or the pants must yield — it is with sorrow 
we say the pants yielded first. 

Finally they got in, expecting to find the treasures of the 
East within its dusty corners, but, instead, what met their 
gaze ? — vacant seats, blackboards, fragments of chalk, only 
these and nothing more. Finally they burst open an adjoin- 
ing room, and got as their reward the Professor's magic 
stick and a paper-weight which he had rejected. With these 
trophies the two worthies fell out of the window and toddled 
to their respective couches. For two days, naught came 
from the lips of Joe save indistinct mutterings that " some 
people were born crazy and others became so after they were 
born." In which genus Joseph must be placed is doubtful. 
We give these stray incidents only to show that all the men 
of '83 were not angels, though Coop, DeCamp and Rudd 
ranked as archangels of the first water. 

It was a little later than this that Flip went to Trenton 
with a couple of Seniors. Coming from the U. S. Hotel, 
when about to start on their homeward path, he thought to 
take to himself a sign. He had just collared it, when a black- 
skinned Trentonian snob came reeling by, overladen with 
the national juice of New Jersey, and in accents broken by 
" hie, haec, hoc," asked what was the matter. Flip was 
not in a condition to decide whether his strange friend was 
the proprietor of the hotel, or not. " Keep this dark," he 
darkly whispered to the darkling dark — he thrust a five- 
dollar pocket-piece within that dark hand, and, darkly leap- 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF 



31 



ing into his buggy, he started on his darksome road toward 
home. 

About the middle of October, the Third Division com- 
mitted a daring robbery, no less than the seizure of Tutor 
"Williams' cane; which same Joe Baldwin conveyed to his 
own room, carefully concealed in the leg of his trousers. 
Not long afterward, Fred Perriue concocted the brilliant 
scheme of issuing a proc, kindly granting Billy Tute the 
privilege of carrying a cane. With the help of Bob Yard, 
this celebrated document was completed, and read as fol- 
lows: 



TUTE! TUTIOR! TUTISSIMUS 



We, the "Bhoys" op '83, in con- 
sideration of the "terrible manner 
in which you have been getting into " 
us in respect to that horrible mon- 
strosity, the Roman method of pro- 
nouncing Latin, and in consideration 
of the surprising 

SPOTTING ABILITIES 

which you have displayed, do hereby 
graciously grant you permission to 
aid your dignified carriage by the 
use of a Cane. 

Class op '83. 



A subscription was immediately taken up, and Joe Bald- 
win and Bob Yard appoiuted themselves a committee on 
printing. Saturday afternoon saw them on their way to 
Trenton in a state of great anxiety, because Mr. Osborne, of 
Treasury Dep't fame, was in the next car. Saturday even- 
ing saw them back again, with the precious papers carefully 
hidden beneath their coats. As the clock in Old North 



32 HISTORY OF THE GLASS OF '83. 

struck twelve, two couples issued forth, arrayed in slouch 
hats, borrowed coats, paste-pots and procs. Ben Butler and 
Clin Day were assigned the campus. Joe Baldwin and Bob 
Yard were to storm the town. The moon shone brightly, 
and all went happy as Parke's smile until the work was 
done, about one o'clock. Party No. 2 was returning, tired 
but contented. Suddenly, breathless with running, Benny 
Butler appeared on the scene. " Run for your lives," he 
cried in a hoarse whisper, "Matt and the whole blame 
Faculty are after us." This happened in front of the First 
Church. Captain, it was understood, was at the College 
entrance. Matt, it was soon discovered, was just across the 
street. Our friends put on an air of unconcern, and walked 
toward the University. But the bright moonlight revealed 
a huge figure dodging from tree to tree across the way. 
The rate of travel was at once increased. But the figure 
on the other side was not to be balked that way. It moved 
faster also. This was unbearable. Throwing away appear- 
ances and their paste-pots together, they ran ; and great was 
the run thereof. Yerily, C. Wilson, in all his glory, ran 
not like one of these. 

An hour later, after a moonlight walk along the canal, 
and a ramble through the Potter estate, the party peeped 
out from behind Murray Hall, then in course of erection. 
Alas! hither and thither about the Campus, dark lanterns, 
like gigantic fire-fiies, gleamed. It seemed as if Matt and all 
the " Necessities " were out searching the building for those 
procs. To enter the grounds was certain destruction. So 
they remained where they were. The air was cold, the 
grass frosty. Three o'clock ! Still the lights wandered 
about the Campus. Half past three! Then Joe got mad; 
and you know what Joe is when he's mad. Dropping on 
all fours, and when danger threatened getting still nearer 
the ground, he slowly made his way across the space sepa- 
rating Murray Hall from East. The rest followed. An 
entrance was effected through the back window into the 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. S3 

entry. Crouse and Harsha were recalled from the land of 
dreams, where they had been visiting for some hours past, 
and about four o'clock all rolled themselves in blankets and 
bestowed themselves as comfortably as might be on the 
floor of 2 S. E. 

During the sleighing season of Fresh year, Landy Green 
and his crowd began to use to advantage the acquaintances 
made on the night of the quartette's debut. Nothing oc- 
curred within a radius of three miles of Rocky Hill in which 
the notorious four did not participate. f Each meeting welded 
more firmly the bonds between smiters and smitten, until 
finally the spirit moved one of an older generation to ques- 
tion Joe Baldwin as to the seriousness of his intentions. Of 
course Joe blushed — he always blushes at a female name — 
but managed to stammer out that he really did not know 
whether he was in earnest or not. 

Bull Gulick was a good fellow during his Fresh year, 
which, unhappily for him, extended through his four years 
of college life. And why was he a good fellow? Because 
he had a team of mules One night the gang started out 
without my definite object, and wandered aimlessly about, 
until Landy thought "We must have some chickens." With 
this foul intent, they arrived at Kingston ; the surging waters 
of the raging canal lashed its storm-beaten shore beneath 
the light of chaste Diana; far in the distance rang the bells, 
silver bells, of sleighs ; the church-spire pointed to the moon, 
in that witching hour of night, while high in a persimmon 
tree roosted a flock of chickens. Landy felt in the straw 
for his legs, and at last finding them twisted under the seat, 
he fell out of the sleigh and went cautiously to the foot of 
the tree. Above him slept his feathered victims — how to 
get them was the problem. Bell sat still in the sleigh, his 
tongue running nineteen to the dozen, while Landy studied 
out the problem of how to capture those chickens. He en- 
twined his legs about four times around the tree, and then 
made a double circle thereabout with his arms. He is said 
3 



34 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

to be an expert in embracery, tree or no tree. Then, un- 
winding the aforesaid legs, he wound them afresh, and so 
ascended until an old hen lay within his reach. At one fell 
swoop he snatched the unhappy cackler and slid down the 
tree. But the miller loved that hen — he and she had grown 
up together. The night air was cold, but for Landy the 
temperature had touched the zero point. He clung to that 
squawking bird until the irate miller was near enough to cling 
to him. But the sleigh was won at last. Bull started his 
mules on a dead run, while behind them the miller profanely 
ruminated over the question: "If I have forty chickens, 
two turkeys, and an ancient hen up a tree, how many would 
I have should that aged bird disappear?" The Mac's was 
a favorite place for the boys, and thither they steered from 
Kingston. As usual, the mules bolted. Bell and Landy 
Green indulged in a slight amateur Slade and Sullivan 
encounter, but, under the circumstances, it would not have 
taken much to tumble them both from the sleigh. The 
drinking water at the Mac's was unfit for use for several 
days, and why? Bell sought to slay that aged fowl with his 
knife, but she was too tough for anything short of a scythe, 
so Sam Smith, with a highly improper remark, hurled her 
down the well, where she lay and soaked, and is probably 
there still. 

During third term there was a fire near the depot. We 
had assisted at one fire before ; we knew the efficiency of 
the Fire Brigade ; we knew, too, the abiding love between 
Town and Gown on such occasions. Rudd, whom the 
phrenologist styled the maximum of mathematical abilita- 
tiveness and the minimum of devoutativeness, bounded to 
the scene of action, though the peaceful Sabbath was dawn- 
ing, and there proffered his services. Feather beds, bed- 
steads, female apparel, came pouring down in one wild cata- 
ract, while looking-glasses, old boots, decayed shoes and 
rimless hats were removed to a place of safety. True, a 
boot-jack arose and smote him on his exuberant feature, 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 35 

which he wears large and imposing, but would he cease his 
heroic efforts for a trifle like that? It is said that his nose 
has not stopped wagging yet. But a snob rushed wildly up- 
stairs and began to rain down furniture on that unhappy 
Freshman until, between that and his water-logged clothes, 
he thought the second Deluge had dawned. He was dazed. 
Water-bowls and pitchers never ceased to hail upon that 
patient brow, but soon a utensil reached his hands with such 
speed and disastrous results to the equanimity of his feelings 
and his centre of gravity that he retired at once to his room, 
and vowed that no more would he toil at a Princeton fire. 

Here G. Bruce broke out with a violent attack of men- 
suration. The near approach of commencement and the 
warm weather caused a revolt against so glaring an imposi- 
tion. But there was slight use in kicking against G. B. 
The work was to be done, and was consequently piled on. 
He lectured from a set of notes, taken by Robinson, of '81, 
and also used a small text-book. The pollers of the class, 
among whom were Coop, Roby, Harsh and other's, met at 
once and concocted a plan by which the books might be 
purloined. As Bruce had stated that his text-book was the 
only one of the sort in the country, his room was entered at 
night and his desk forced open. There lay the sought-for 
treasure. The happy thought that no more mensuration 
would afflict them that year caused the pollers to break 
forth in a psalm of thanksgiving. The books were safely 
stowed in a trunk in 2 S. E. On the next day, tears stood 
in Bruce's eyes, while the wonted smile had become a shade 
of melancholy. " Gentlemen, thieves have entered my 
sanctum ; broken open the ark of the covenanted text-books 
and desecrated the holy place. You are dismissed." The 
scheme had worked as merry as a marriage bell, so far, but 
when we met again, next day, a change came o'er the spirit 
of our dream. There stood Bruce, with a German book in 
his hand. The first sentence which fell from the Brucean 
lips started perspiration on Landis' marble brow, while 



36 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

Durell and others smiled complacently at the scheme. Did 
it work ? Well, no, it didn't. It didn't come up to the an- 
ticipation of the boys, who had expected a snap. Coun- 
tenances fell, but still he continued to read. We couldn't 
take it in. It was deeper than Hodge's " low-water mark," 
and about one too many for the average child of '83. The 
only consolation we received was that a thorough examina- 
tion would be held on notes taken from the book. Luckily, 
it never came off. A few days after the occurrence, Bruce 
began to feel a pressing need for his lost text-book, notwith- 
standing the German publication, and a protracted " Berlin 
residence." He thought he saw the theft in Flip's eye. 
Every move showed Duny to be the guilty man. He there- 
fore called him up after recitation and promised him a high 
grade if he would return the missing article. ISTow, Flip 
had shaken in his boots about four hours each day, dread- 
ing a condition, so when this proposition was made to him 
he determined to take every possible means to find the 
book. He struck the lead at 2 S. E., and, obtaining the hid- 
den treasure, took it at once to Halsted. " I am very much 
obliged to you, Duane," said Bruce; " I knew you had it, as 
well as I know that twice the cube of four times the — " 
" Oh, that's all right, Doctor," stammered Flip, "I will look 
for a good grade." Whether or not he got it is impossible 
to state, but using all the laws of reason, based on experi- 
ence, the inference is that he struck a cold condition. 

During second term something had been seen flitting 
promiscuous round the Campus, decked with a relic of the 
old country. Whether it was a protege of the General, or 
a distant relative of Tom, we knew not. Suffice it to say 
that it was. On our return after Easter vacation, we had 
occasion to meet the unknown, and our subsequent meetings 
were happy ones. The first thing the Doctor did, of course, 
was to welcome himself into our midst, and congratulate us 
on his own arrival. Cheers and prolonged applause greeted 
the first speech from one who was yet to acquaint himself 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 37 

with the peculiarities ot American boys, as well as those 
who lived in Jersey. For the first few meetings, all went 
cheerily, but the tide began to turn, and the unhappy Doc- 
tor was actually thrown into the hands of a merciless mob 
for the remainder of the year. No sooner was the room 
entered than the circus would begin. Green, Harriman, 
Harlan, and Harsha were the principal actors. Music stands 
flew wildly round the room. Harsha, mounted on Green's 
shoulders, would pull down a window by reason of heat, 
then when the clamor arose about the draught, we would 
all adjourn to another room, where the performance would 
be repeated. All the while, Huss marched up and down 
before his desk, swinging his hands. " Mr. Green, I gif you 
one disorder mark, h-m-m-m !" " All right, Doctor." 
Then Jim Harlan must put in his oar, " Why Doctor, that's 
unjust !" " Mr. Harlan you grief me much. I gif you two 
disorder marks." " Creams for the crowd, Professor, that 
I made no noise." From the pollers and indifFerentials 
would then arise the cry, " Put up ! Put up !" while from 
the spongers would come the shout, " Crawl ! Crawl ! That's 
a bad crawl, Doctor !" And so passed away the hours from 
week to week, only they became more so and more so. 
Murdoch went down to see the Doctor about an absence. 
" Why did you not come pefore, Mr. Murdoch?" " Well," 
said Soc, " you see, Doctor, the fellows might think I was 
trying to get a boot-lick on you." " Ya ! das ist zo ! I re- 
gard not ze man who get down and lick me off my shoe." 
" Right you are, Doctor," said Jack, and seeing that his ab- 
sence was removed, departed. 

The greatest visit, however, took place later on. The 
class marched en masse to get their grades, and the face of 
the Professor waxed pale and wan. They seat themselves, 
those without chairs unanimously taking the floor. Huss 
remarked, " Ze Faculty wait for me," but was told not to 
hurry himself — there was plenty of time. After boring him 
nearly to death, and causing unrighteous ejaculations to 



38 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

pour from that guileless mouth, they skipped away, having 
first pocketed a few of his relics, and flooded Chambers St. 
with his seltzer water. 

The Professor otfered a prize for the man taking the best 
grade. It was to be a rare and precious jewel, imported 
expressly from " Mein Vaterland." It was finally divided 
between four, each one receiving a golden quarter. How- 
ever rare this costly coin might be, it scarcely touched the 
exalted imagination of '83. 

Ere closing this eventful year, we must not omit to give 
the name of one of our band, an authority on garments — a 
reckless, extravagant youth, who dissipated wealth like 
water — Tommy Wanamaker. Who, too, has not heard the 
story of the prodigality of Tape Bryant, more so when he 
was in "Biff" mood. But that was nothing to Tommy. 
He wandered up to Joe Seguin and confidentially whispered, 
" My, my ! how extravagant I grow ! Just think, I have 
spent three dollars and eighty-six cents this week, but 
don't, oh, don't mention it ! " Soon after, it came out that 
he had been to New York and Philadelphia. Two dollars 
and two cents + one dollar and eighty-four cents = $3.86, 
as readeth the logic of Freshman algebra. Ponder on it, 
Tommy. Three hundred and eighty-six cents vanished 
into thin air, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, left 
not a rack behind ! 

In all our four happy years but one cloud has darkened 
the sunshine of our little world. But a heavy, threatening, 
cloud it was. At the end of Freshman year a blighting 
epidemic visited Princeton, and, selecting here and there a 
victim, chose three from our brotherhood. One year of 
college life is just sufficient to weave close the cords of love 
and esteem among class-mates. Brought as we were into the 
closest relations with each other, that sympathy, awakened 
by a feeling of common loneliness and dependence, and deep- 
ened by common aims, pleasures and interests, had, by third 
term, developed into the warmest and tenderest friendship. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '8S. 39 

But fate is ruthless. Sad, sad, were those days. Surrounded 
by all the beauties of newly-awakened Spring, we had the 
heart to do nothing but sit or aimlessly wander among the 
great elms of our beautiful campus, and talk in low tones of 
those who lay sick among us, or of those whom Death had 
taken. We lived in an atmosphere of keenest anxiety. 
Every breath of air brought with it some new report. Some 
one else — some dear friend, perhaps, — had sunk under the 
touch of the destroyer; one of those already sick was ap- 
proaching nearer and nearer the end. Who would be next? 
Sad and dark to us were those joyous Spring days. Tele- 
grams came from all parts of the land bidding sons and 
brothers hasten away. Excitement reigned. The out-going 
trains were crowded. Exercises were neglected, then aban- 
doned; and finally College closed on May 29th, 1880. 

And so the curtain falls on Fresh year, to rise again on a 
newly-cemented band of brothers, but little sobered down 
by a year's sojourn under the shadows of Old Nassau ; and 
we can only hope that the authorities, like ourselves, may 

" Forgive these wild and wandering ways, 
Confusions of a Freshman youth ; 
Forgive them in our Sophomore days, 
And try and think them words of truth." 



40 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF 'I 



Sxxplmmara l$mx. 



No more as verdants we appear, 

With open mouth of yore; 
Within one year we've blossomed here 

To the cheeky Sophomore! 

The experience of countless Classes at Princeton, and 
elsewhere, has shown that a Freshman is Freshest when he 
has just reached the dignity of his second college year. If 
Fresh then, he is fresh for all time. While this may seem a 
paradox, those who have seen the shining examples of Lord 
John and Grilmore can never doubt its truth. Among the 
beaming faces, we look, alas ! in vain, for one from day to 
day. The roll resounds — Agnew, Alexander, Annin, An- 
trim, Archer, but when the name of Barclay is heard, a 
silence falls, deep as despair. And yet we knew full well that 
he was still in the land of the living, and many conjectured 
that he had retired into a comfortable competency on the 
proceeds of his poker investments in the now far-scattered 
ranch of 2 S. E. To make a long story short, the paternal 
ancestor thought it best that his hopeful son stay home and 
pitch the bounding ball, — as he judged, from the color of his 
arms, that this was the only pursuit, intellectual or athletic, 
pursued at Princeton. But fate was too powerful ; her 
relentless finger pointed to the Barclay Bank, toward which 
the reluctant feet of the victim hied away, then and there- 
after to take the straight and narrow line of life, instead of 
the pleasant curves of Wad. 

But there was, as ever, a sunny side. What some might 
term our loss, proved surely our profit, and rends asunder 
the idea that we were the sufferers. Now there was Benny 
Mitchell, the great ball-player of the Sioux, Blackfeet, and 
Pic-a-paws of the land of the setting sun. He thought, by 
his rebounding agility, to capture the University at once. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 41 

"You see," he murmured in a sympathetic ear, " all the fel- 
lows have to do, to appreciate me, is to see my style. I rely 
entirely on my rapid delivery and circular twist." Soon, 
soon it was found that the only rapid delivery of which 
Benny was capable was in polling, while all his aptitude for 
base ball was an accidental fact, and far, far from being in- 
nate. Consequently, by one of the many whirligigs of Time, 
and freaks of Dame Fortune, he tumbled into the class nine. 
But prodigy as Benny announced himself, his ineffectual 
fires must pale before the light of Frank Woods, the latest 
issue of the No Name series. You see, Frank was too old 
a bird for Soph — he knew too much. This nasal herald of 
the " Fresh Fire around the cannon," was a somewhat 
warped specimen of humanity — his mind and body were at 
variance. Who, to gaze on that downy, unshaven cheek — 
who, to hear his bold denunciations of men like Jim Harlan 
— would dream that but "fifteen years of experience" had 
shed their snows upon that classic brow ? 

But, lo ! a form approaches. Wesleyan is stamped on 
every feature; but — what is it? Its early days were spent 
'neath the shadows of the bending willows of a co-ed prep., 
and ended under the laurels of the miasmatic swamps of 
Warren county. Life loomed before him like an Eastern 
dream, or like a stranded wreck on the wild Atlantic coast, 
so he wisely sought the classic shades of Old Nassau. He 
darkly hinted that at Wesleyan his life was a burden, so 
shamefully had his noblest feelings been trampled on by the 
other half of the co-ed. He said he pondered long on the 
reason of their evident preference for him, but one day, 
when gazing in his mirror, the cause had flashed upon him 
— he was pretty ! This distorted idea doubtless sprang from 
a mind poisoned by the malaria of the Warren Ring — on no 
other theory can we account for it. 

The traditions of all ages unanimously agree in making 
ghosts the habitues of old and deserted houses. But we 
are about to relate a blood-curdling tale, which completely 



42 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

knocks that theory in the head. Edwards Hall was per- 
fectly new. This was the first year of its existence. No 
one had ever died or hung himself there ; no one had ever 
buried any money there as far as is known. And yet Ed- 
wards Hall was the scene of Its visitations. There was Old 
North, with gloomy stone stairs — winding stairs, too — and 
dusky passages. And there was the Potter mansion, with 
its romantic associations. But no, It chose Edwards Hall. 
Its first appearance was upon a dark October night. The 
moon had disappeared, and the winds were howling around 
the corners of the temporary structure. Tom had put the 
lights out half an hour ago. Sleep and oblivion reigned in 
Edwards. Suddenly a low, wailing cry was heard in the 
south entry, rising and falling in gentle cadences, swelling 
to forte, then dropping to pianissimo, and finally ending in an 
agonizing, heart-rending shriek : " Jo-o-o-o-hn Smi-i-th ! ! !" 
A minute's silence followed, and several scuttles of coal, a 
dry goods box, a few gallons of water, a chair or two, and 
an ash-pan lay peacefully together, like Barnum's happy 
family, on the lower floor of the entry. This ended it. But 
the next night saw a repetition of the same phenomena; 
and the night following was the same. Sleepers were 
awakened from their dreams, with cold perspiration on their 
faces and hair erect, only to listen a moment, utter a silent 
prayer, and try vainly to sleep again. It was described as 
fiendish, supernatural. Peter Rue said, "I wasn't a bit 
afraid, of course ; but then you know I didn't — well, you 
see, I — well I didn't exactly like to go out in the entry, you 
see." Something must be done. Secretly appointed com- 
mittees held nightly watch. Frank Wadleigh, Tim Rogers, 
Ked and Phil Peace, and others staid all night in Peter's 
room, while another deputation slept with Rudd. But the 
sound was impossible to locate. Some said it came from 
up-stairs, some from down-stairs. Some affirmed that it 
was everywhere at once. Wad crouched under the bottom 
flight one night until two o'clock. He had no sooner left 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 43 

than the entry was again paralyzed. It was thought that, 
be he ghost or devil, an immersion in Lake McCosh might 
do him good, or at least render him too hoarse to howl for 
several days. Consequently the watch was redoubled. Tom 
Peebles thought he had caught him one day; and with a 
few choice spirits, interviewed Lord John. But Lord John 
was a philosopher and a mighty logician in those days, and 
soon convinced the assembled company otherwise by pure 
force of argument. At length, one morning a mysterious 
proclamation appeared in S. Ed., in choice English words in 
Greek text. It purported to come from a secret society, de- 
clared John Smith to be their emissary, and called down 
most emphatic threats of vengeance by torture upon any 
who should dare to molest him. After that John Smith 
never was heard again. Peace to his ashes. But the 
proclamation was examined, little incidents put together, 
and Fred White afterward went by the name of " John 
Smith." 

It was a strange, a wondrous transition from the insignifi- 
cant role of Fresh to that of the know-all, do-all, be-all of 
the exalted Soph. The Freshmen went through the same 
agonies, suffered the same indignities, and bore the same 
burdens that their tormentors had endured before them. 
Charley Bandman was an object of special care to the class. 
He was a portege of Victor, a devotee of Denis Kearney. 
Coming from the sand-lots, it was only natural that he 
should plaintively ask, " Can I walk on the grass in the 
yard ?" 

The class had suffered enough in Fresh year. They had 
no intention of enduring more at the hands of '84. It 
wasn't a quartette ; it wasn't an organ ; it wasn't Hicks ; it 
was a beastly flute. Boak roomed in South Middle Re- 
union ; he loved no chum save only a flute, which protruded 
from his pocket in recitation and shared his lonely couch at 
night. From early dawn until the poker-players became 
sleepy, that flute resounded. It never stopped — neither did 



44 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

its diseord. It became monotonous at last, like Mark 
Twain's cow. Had he but punished some other instrument, 
a cornet or violoncello, for instance, we might have stood it, 
but that flute was intolerable. He was given due warning, 
that unless that accursed noise was stopped, his thread of 
life was short. He paid no heed, so one night, when the 
fellows had been driven half mad by "Home, Sweet Home," 
a dozen raps resounded on his door. With the raps, the 
awful dirge ceased. Rap ! no answer. Whish ! went a 
pail of water through the transom — bang! went the door, 
and there, in the corner, cowered the unhappy wretch who 
had caused all this misery. Hazing being forbidden, the 
fellows had to content themselves with making him swear 
he would play that flute no more, and then gently undress- 
ing him, they tucked him in his little bed and departed. 
The flute sounded no more, and next day the College car- 
penter had a job on the door. 

From the very beginning of Fresh year, the fact was uni- 
versally recognized that Rudd was a masher. It was com- 
monly thought that he so assiduously cultivated the art of 
punning with no other purpose in view than to captivate un- 
suspecting fair ones with the brilliancy of his wit. Benny 
Mitchell and Peter Rue used to stand below his window and 
call him ; and when his classic head appeared, the only reply 
was a sepulchral chorus " Mash-er !" After a week or two 
Rudd would never answer any call unless application was 
made at the door. He was given to musings, and once was 
surprised in bestowing an apostrophe upon the moon. It 
was whispered among those who saw most of him, " Rudd 
is in love." One day, after he had especially distinguished 
himself by restlessness and absence of mind, he made an 
announcement. He seemed to labor much over it, and the 
delivery was followed immediately by a sigh of relief. He 
said he was going home to attend a wedding. Taking all 
things into consideration, the universal conclusion was, that 
he himself was to be one of the happy party. Ah ! That 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 45 

explained all. It was a trying thing to marry while in col- 
lege; and what an ordeal it must be to tell his class-mates! 
We appreciated this, and kindly endeavored to lessen his 
embarrassment by gently intimating that we understood the 
state of affairs. Rudd answered not a word, but seemed 
grateful. 

The day of the wedding arrived. As he left Edwards, 
his friends bid him farewell and wished him happiness. In 
the evening Fred White conceived an idea. He consulted 
Benny Mitchell, and the two arranged a pleasant little sur- 
prise for the happy bride-groom on his return. Fred con- 
structed the daintiest little card-board crib imaginable, and 
in it he and Ben tenderly laid the head of Rudd's pus? cane, 
tucking it in carefully with Rudd's hem-stiched handker- 
chief, and supporting the whole with Rudd's Bible. They 
placed a cologne bottle, labled " Soothing Syrup," at the 
head of the crib, and the picture of Rudd's girl at the foot. 
They then invited all the entry. Every one was much 
pleased. It was so thoughtful, so considerate, to arrange 
such a pleasant surprise for their dear class-mate. And 
Rudd would be so touched by this kind tribute of affection. 
Jim Harlan all at once made a plunge for the bed-room, and 
returned with the remark that, of course, the class cup ought 
to have a place in the window. The proposition was received 
with applause. A long string was secured, and Jim mounted 
the window-sill. At this interesting moment the door opened 
and Rudd walked in, having just arrived by the 8:55 train. 
The effect was immediate and startling. One by one the 
boys remarked that they had engagements. Jim's face was 
a study. Standing on the window-sill he gradually lowered 
the class cup to the floor, while his lower jaw dropped pro- 
portionately. Rudd set up to wedding cake, and seemed to 
be enjoying himself. It was a noticeable fact, however, that 
he did most of the talking. The question yet remains un- 
settled, Where was the grind? 



46 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

One Sunday night after class prayer-meeting the fellows 
thought it an excellent moment to stari the Fresh Proc. 
Here. Howell and Darlington had ventured the task, but 
quarreled on who boarded at the best club. This was always 
a standing point of dispute among the Newark boys, among 
whom Fred Rutan may be classed. Hodge's room was 
chosen as the one for preparing the weighty document. Jim 
Harlan was the bloody man on the committee. He wanted 
to make it rank beyond all precedent. " Oh, fellows, it 
won't do — it's too weak, too tame — why it won't take at 
all ! " But he was met by Haxall, the calm, cool Virginian 
statistician, who caused reason to rule rashness, and conse- 
quently the result was a very mild proc. Walter Green and 
Jim went to Trenton to have it printed ; Jim thought he 
would tell it all to Green's grandfather — he thought it would 
be appreciated. Walter, however, took a different view of 
the matter when the opinion of two previous generations 
fell like a thunderbolt upon his listening ear. He kept out 
of Trenton for some time, and through a telescope could 
only be dimly discerned from North College. But the tug- 
of-war arrived when the proc. was to be posted. Hodge 
was then at the zenith of his planetary course, hurling 
through space, into which had suddenly beamed Mo White, 
a comet. Jack was on his last probation, and, therefore, his 
services were not to be had. 

Two sections started out. Jim Harlan and Green com- 
posed the one, Trip and Tim Rogers the other. The first 
duet of these worthies thought it a noble deed to paste a 
proc. on the ceiling of the English room, so that the Fresh 
gang could gaze with ease on its " purity, propriety, and pre- 
cision." Jim stood on the tottering desk, Walter upon his 
shoulders. The desk came down with paste-pot too, and 
no proc. there for beholders. In truth, 'twas a memorable 
night ! '84 had been watching for a week, and as soon as 
proc. No. 1 appeared, forth they marched, with Reddy 
Stewart at their head. Then rose a wild cry from the ranks 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 47 

of '83, as they rushed upon the foe. Darkly waged the 
fight, and when the chill morning dawned, they still surged 
back and forth in the deadly fray ; at the depot stood Peace, 
on guard before a proc. ; his folded arms he rested on his 
mighty chest, and the few l.resh who ventured near gazed 
with awe upon that stalwart form. But Matt came quietly 
up, tore down the proc. and gazed placidly on the retreating 
form of Peace as he meekly stole away. Here and there 
was a Fresh gazing on a proc, while he brushed the mud 
from his hat. About the cannon Green might have been 
seen, vieing by force of arms with the self-luminous Stewart. 
Pew deaths ensued, but much wrath and many expletives 
arose from the ranks of those injured innocents. 

!Now it was that the entire Faculty rose in revolt against 
some printed tickets scattered broad-cast over the Campus, 
marked " C. C." To our adjunct Professor of Latin, 
it meant neither more nor less than a combination of 
secret societies. The Freshmen thought it meant Carry 
Canes, but were mistaken. We thought it meant Cut Cam, 
but the subject was too deep for the higher class-men to 
even hazard a guess. The trouble increased — fresh tickets 
came out, reading " C. C. on Oct. 15th." Then followed 
others — " C. C. on Oct. 15th, at noon," and finally came a 
last batch — " C. C. on Oct. 15th, at noon, in front of 
Chapel." Every one, with expectations aroused to the 
highest pitch, expected some great excitement — perhaps a 
college circus. At the hour stated, a rush was made for the 
Chapel, but there stood uo one but James the loud, and by 
his side the great curiosity arouser Prescott. It was noth- 
ing but a Mormon mixture, compounded of the salt found 
at Great Salt Lake, and on which the western journalist 
thought to realize a handsome fortune. He called it choco- 
late caromels, a much gentler name than was applied to him. 
The strength of Jim, the licensed vendor, alone protected 
him from the violence of an enraged mob. Professor 
Sloane's fraternity tears were allayed, and all saw what dia- 
bolical deeds a Princeton printer's devil could perform. 



48 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

In the preliminary cane spree three sticks were fought for 
and the majority fell to '83. Here there is a fact to relate 
which causes the eye to moisten and the heart to beat 
quick and fast from pity. Preach Hawes had been a power- 
ful man among the maidens who dwelt at Rocky Hill. The 
farm at Blawenburgh, with its living appurtenances, was soon 
to fall into his grasping hands. His Ohio pride was, natu- 
rally enough, puffed up. He entered the Held 'against the 
choice from '84. Nothing could dissuade him from his pur- 
pose. He felt as confident of victory as did the giant Bald- 
win in Fresh year, when pitted against Fred Burt. As the 
two had often traveled together, as they had frequently 
sought the alluring smile on the " Hill," on the same night 
— by mistake, — so, like Tape Bryant in Halsted, they were 
left together on the battle field of canes. Like Wes Lynde's 
attempt to use a trans, in Sloane, once was a great sufficiency 
for Joe. Preach, however, was ambitious. Before his vivid 
imagination loomed up a myriad of canes, requiring but a 
trivial effort to secure them as a prize. He determined to 
try once more in the general spree, and there to do or die. 
Alas ! he left the campus early and sought his little couch, 
while Sam Smith soothed him with the animating liquid. 
Here, too, Fred Rutan encountered McMillan on the deadly 
field. Here he fell, and here he vowed that never more 
would he participate in so rude a sport. Fred went home 
with a broken collar-bone. 

Here, again, Borgmeyer furnished a most excellent per- 
formance in pursuing, as he thought, an unhappy Freshman. 
Borgy was lying in wait at the entrance to the Campus, 
waiting for some bold Freshman to appear, bearing a cane, 
and then, with the aid of his fellow-miscreants, to secure a 
victory. Darkness was falling — along came Billy Osborue, 
flourishing a cane. Now came the time for action. Forth 
rushed Borgy, howling, " '83 to the rescue !" at the top of 
his lungs. Past the College offices — past the doors of Re- 
union and West, sped the madding chase. Round the cor- 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 49 

ner and into Witherspoon fled the bunted deer, with Borgy 
in hot pursuit. There the truth was revealed — such treach- 
ery, such base and groveling meanness, Borgy did not think 
could exist in the ranks of '88. 

Peter now became hard. He had hitherto piously obeyed 
every word of his beloved guardian, but ever since his nar- 
row escape in 2 S. E., his mind had flown to higher things, 
and he sought protection beneath the shadow of Bell. Bil- 
liar Is were tame ; poker for pea-nuts was a fleeting show. 
The point came in his youthful career when he visited 
Trenton, with Bob Yard and Perrine, to view the play of 
"Hazel Kirke." It was, in truth, a touching sight, to see 
those three innocents abroad. To be sure, Perry had never 
sunk so low before, but then he knew by heart every feature 
of the theatre. " Boys, we'll get some pea-nuts, and a front 
row in the pea-nut gallery. Now this front row is the next 
behind the orchestra." Bob said he wouldn't enter the pit, 
but Peter cast the deciding vote, as he wished to sit near 
the stage " for more than one reason." After this, he took 
a daily lesson from Bell, went to a draw-back club, paid his 
tutor enough to take him to Roselle once a week, and then 
stopped to begin speculations with Lord John, the Chatham 
street merchant. 

Just two miles from Princeton town 

Is a nook, 
Called by all the county round 

Stony Brook. 
In its waters, we are taught, 
Shiny minnows may be caught 

With a hook. 

Near this astonishingly neat 

Little pool, 
Stands a school house, hard to beat, 

Nice and cool. 
There, on Sundays, you may see 
Frankie Hoskins, '83, 

Teaching school. 



50 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '£ 

Comes a maiden from the town ; 

Passing fair ; 
Pretty rosy lips, and brown, 

Wavy hair. 
There is mischief in her eye, 
As she glances, with a sigh, 

At him there. 

"lis a place without its match — 
Stony Brook. 

Little fishes you may catch 
With a hook ; 

But far stranger things are wrought- 

Human fishes there are caught 
With a look. 



Victor was as loud as ever during first part of Soph year. 
He had taken lessons in pitching from a San Erancisco ball 
player, and bid fair to outdo the " rapid delivery and circu- 
lar twist " of Mitchell. But there were two things neces- 
sary besides being an excellent player, in order to strike the 
University. He must, first of all, wear knickerbockers and 
then raise side whiskers. Now the first of there was but a 
trifle to acquire — the rub lay in the unseen siders. Procur- 
ing a pair of long, flaming red stockings, he donned them 
and then rolled his pants above his knees. Occasionally, 
while walking up the street, one side would come down, but 
it made little difference to him what others thought, as long 
as he was confident that the graceful dress of Oscar adorned 
his noble form. Now and then the hated snob would pur- 
sue Victor with taunting remarks, but he good naturedly 
ever rolled down his pants until out of sight, when he again 
brought his stockings in full view. It was while in a rage 
over some indignity shown him by his town enemies that 
he gave vent to his ruffled feelings on Borgmeyer, and dealt 
him a stunning blow in front of the Nassau. The goal of 
his ambition was now before him. Toward it he had pressed 
on manfully, and all that blocked his passage now was the 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 51 

absent side-boards. He endeavored to block them out, but 
there was no material to build upon. For three months, as 
each successive night came, he covered his face with Bab- 
bit's soap, thinking thus to rush the tardy beard. His suc- 
cess was about as marked as that of Ed Royle, or Craig Colt. 
But finally the first, faint appearance came, like the dawn- 
ing of the morn. With each appliance of the yellow soap 
they waxed stronger and heavier. Strange to say, one side 
was always far in advance of the other. More soap — the 
same difference. He then came to the conclusion that the 
brand of soap must be changed, and consequently the Bab- 
bit firm exploded and the demand for Pyle's O. K. soap was 
greatly increased. Failing in this expedient, he finally de- 
cided that the inequality was due to his rubbing off the fer- 
tilizer on one side during the hours of repose. He then 
determined to shave one side continually, and allow the 
other to get a start of a few weeks' growth. Vic was never 
very evenly balanced, and this disturbed still more his equi- 
librium. He looked at the matter with the eye of a philos- 
opher, and ever sacrificed appearances for the noble end. 
His efforts were futile, his endeavors vain, and therefore he 
was content with giving exhibition curves in front of West. 
About this time we noticed the absence of a familiar face. 
There was a vacant seat in the class-room, and there was a 
dearth of music in Witherspoon. Where, oh, where was 
our little Joe gone ? We missed his perpetual and saintly 
smile. The campus, without his graceful form, seemed to 
have lost a part of its identity. We made enquiries ; but 
nobody seemed to know what had become of Brownie. One 
thought he had gone home sick. Another said he had 
crossed the ocean blue to look after his landed interests in 
France. Another whispered that he knew Joe was badly 
mashed on a girl in the city, and, possibly, he had left col- 
lege to take unto himself a wife. But it was very strange, 
were any of these suppositions true, that Joe had never 



52 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

given any of his friends the slightest intimation of his in- 
tentions. No. None of these explanations sufficed. 

At length, a Cranbury paper happened to come into the 
possession of one of his mourning friends. Eureka ! The 
lost was found. In the personal column appeared the fol- 
lowing : 

" Mr. Joseph Seguin, of Princeton College, is at present spending 
a few days in our village. Mr. Seguin has a baritone voice, of singular 
power and pathos, and is delighting his many friends in this neighbor 
hood with his charming musical selections." 

The riddle was solved. Joe was neither sick nor mar- 
ried, but simply spending a couple of weeks, Facultate 
volente, with his friends in the country. 

In Soph year the riding club sprang into existence, born 
of the enterprising spirit of Hawes and Robeson. Weekly 
the two graceful forms, perched upon two gallant steeds, 
might be seen, in gay uniform, starting out. Preach had ap- 
pointed himself committee to decide the regular trip. The 
result was, that Rocky Hill was the first watering place on 
the route, Kingston the next, with Princeton a good third. 
The regular dues were three dollars a year — one half pay- 
able within four weeks of the beginning of the College 
year, the remainder when PatRiley was flush enough to invest 
in cast-off garments. Had it not been that serious trouble 
resulted from the mere insertion of the members' names in 
the Bric-a-Brac, the constitution would here be printed. 
The hand of Cooper is evident in Article V., the contents 
of which Dyke Gulick disclosed. It reads as follows : " No 
bill for horse hire shall be considered payable unless ratified 
by a two-thirds vote of the organization ; no vote of less 
than three members shall be taken as two-thirds." When 
it is remembered that the club consisted of two members, 
it will easily be seen that economy was the first principle. 
There is but one event recorded in the minutes of the so- 
ciety which the secretary permitted us to read. It was one 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 53 

of Robey's sleepy days, and Preach stole a march on him. 
As usual, he started for Rocky Hill, and there persuaded 
some of the fairer honorary members to join him. Preach 
became so rash as to bet a pound of candy on the speed of 
his club horse. It was merely a scheme of his to get an in- 
vitation to call again. Away they started, neck and neck, 
but just as they were rounding a corner the maiden lost her 
balance and lay prostrate in the road. Bull Gulick. hap- 
pened to be coming up in the rear, and when near enough 
to hear the gentle murmuring of Preach, his ear caught 
the doleful words, " Oh, my all ! My all !" From that day 
Preach firmly resolved to leave the shady elms of Princeton 
for the sun-light of farm life. Whether the heiress made a 
slight objection, or whether Preach found more pleasant and 
profitable employment, is not known. At any rate, the 
farming mania soon subsided, and the riding club dissolved 
after a handsome dividend had been declared. 

In Sophomore year, Frank Roberts erred from the straight 
and narrow path of Ye Scientific School. He had fallen 
in with Smith, Hawes and company, and the results were, 
of course, disastrous. Every evening, when the sun was 
about to rest from his day's journey, the handsome youth 
might be seen wending his way toward Kingston. It soon 
became a serious matter, but not half so serious as his trip 
to Pennington. He and the company started out, a la 
Hawes and Robey, with Shann's noblest steeds. Frank's 
heart had become wonderfully susceptible to the smiles of 
any maiden, it mattered not when or where. As a matter 
of course, at Pennington, he was completely crushed by a 
glance from the windows of the Seminary. The steady 
nerve began to fail, and he saw clearly that some stimulant 
was necessary to carry him safely home. Soda-water was 
ordered, but Preach would take nothing stronger than water. 
The effect was wonderful. Frank became worse and worse, 
and no sooner had they reached the outskirts of the town, 
than he took a headlong tumble. His horse went home — 



54 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

and so did Frank. The horse went on foot — Frank walked. 
He never fully understood whether the glass of soda-water 
or the smile of the giddy damsel produced the complete 
paralyzation. He was satisfied that it was produced, and 
that was enough. He returned to his innocent Fresh-hood 
ways, and looked no more upon Kingston or Pennington. 

"No fruit so sweet as stolen fruit," is a proverb that was 
well exemplified by '83. Jimmy's orchard was so handy, 
and the apples were so nice and plentiful, that the tempta- 
tion was too great to be withstood by such weak-minded 
youths as Jim Harlan and Wad. Together with many other 
sinners, they yielded to the pippins' seductions, and made 
frequent visits to the orchard by night, armed with clothes- 
bags and pillow-cases. The presence of the wire-barbed 
fence was the only thing for which the boys could never for- 
give Jimmy. It, practically, made the orchard a mouse-trap. 
Once inside, escape was possible only by the exercise of the 
utmost care and deliberation. One night, October 11th, 
Jim, Perry, But, Peter, Wad, Bob Yard, and Ben Mitchell, 
were laying persistent and systematic siege to the afore- 
mentioned orchard. Apples were large and ripe, and the 
harvest was plentiful. A noise near the lodge suddenly 
startled the marauders. Business was suspended a moment. 
Then was heard a shout, followed immediately by a pistol 
shot. Alas ! for the besiegers ! Where was all their valor 
now ? The moon 

" Looked down and saw not one." 

But, hold! We are wrong. Your historian prides himself 
upon speaking the plain, unvarnished truth. The moon 
looked down and did see one. And that one was Benny 
Butler, impaled upon the barbed-wire fence. 

It is surprising that so many still cling to the absurd idea 
that Trenton and a life of virtue are incompatible. How 
the conclusion has been reached cannot be explained. Per- 
haps those who cherish this idea remember Bell's little es- 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 55 

capade with a couple of '80 men ; perhaps their opinion is 
based on the unwarrantable assumption that all who visit 
the state capital enter the opera house. Bob Ingersoll was 
booked for a political speech at Trenton, and, in conse- 
quence, the College turned out en masse. The innocent 
faces of Rudd, Updike and DeCamp were seen mingled 
with the madding crowd. "Pollers" and "loafers" stood on 
common grounds; the smile of the South Carolina orator 
beamed upon his northern brother, the bloated bond-holders 
occupying Fred Shann's coach joined hands with those 
upon whom Dame Fortune had not lavished her richest 
gifts. A happy family it was ! A majority of the fellows 
were not particular about hearing the speech — they simply 
wanted something by which, they could, in after years, re- 
member the occasion. It is needless to say that the most of 
them were gratified in this respect. Baldwin, for example, 
will ever recollect the pottery district of Trenton ; Rudd 
will long remember his mistake in addressing a fair damsel 
whom he mistook for a cousin ; some will, for many a day, 
have engraven upon their memories " State and Warren at 
nine," but, above all, Borgy can never forget his thrilling 
adventure. His stately form and foreign accent gave him 
the appearance of a French count. His luck was, there- 
fore, better than those who expected to meet friends or 
relatives in the evening, but failed to gaze upon them. The 
sight was such as to satisfy even the aesthetic eye of Harry 
Hall. Standing in front of the jewelry store of Cook & 
Jaques, one could see, on the opposite side of the street, 
the French gentleman sandwiched between two American 
fair ones. Ever and anon the deep sound of "no" or 
"yes" or " I presume so" could be heard. Save these oc- 
casional interlocutory remarks, the conversation was carried 
on exclusively by the two Trentoniaus. Perhaps some still 
remember Borgy's imposing gait, in Fresh year, when 
promenading Nassau street with a member of the public 
school faculty. It was the same on this memorable night — 



56 HISTORY OF THE . CLASS OF '83. 

elbows projecting at his side, body cast forward at an angle 
of forty-five degrees and feet on a line with the head. 
When about half way between Greene and Warren streets, 
one of his companions was heard to remark, " not all is 
gold that glitters." Borgy's responsive "no" came 
promptly forth. It matters little whether she alluded to 
his unmitigated brassy cheek or not, for at that moment 
they quickly slipped their arms from his and left him stand- 
ing alone, filled with wrath and indignation. He took the 
next train for Princeton, but the rest waited for the " owl." 
Never was there seen a happier crowd than that which rode 
behind her as she hooted on her midnight journey. 

While the whole College was absorbed in foot-ball, minor 
games took pl^ce, many of which are memorable in the an- 
nals of '83. The most stupendous of these was played be- 
tween Yard's nnd Crouse's clubs. It was indeed a notable 
sight to behold such quiet men as Coop, Roby, and Bell 
contend in the rush of battle. Coop was full back; he said 
he didn't understand the back part, but put him on the full 
side, and he would be at home. Roby was half-back; he 
usually got about half-way back from Philadelphia to 
Princeton, and stopped ; from his manner of playing on 
this occasion, one would suppose that when he got to his 
half-way home he stayed there. When he took position, 
like the boy on the burning deck, he stood like a rock on 
the spot whence all but him had fled. Smyser was the pon- 
derous man of the team, and declared that, being a man of 
weight, he must be captain. Of course children must have 
soothing syrup, and so he became the Agamemnon of the 
team. Once Coop rushed forth in the van of battle, the 
ball fiercely clutched beneath his mighty biceps, but paused ! 
He vowed he was through, unless the whole band should 
adjourn at once to the Hotel de Gus and finish the game 
afterward. Bob Yard and Harsha coincided, but Roby per- 
suaded them it was incorrect and so the game proceeded. 
Good spirit prevailed throughout the game, and good spirits 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 57 

afterward. But a feud arose, destined to be as deadly as 
that of the Iliad. Borgy and Smyser ! the two Grecian 
chiefs who met in deadly fray. Now it came to pass that at 
the foot of Chambers street abode the mash of Borgy, and 
as the game came off on Conover's field, she gazed upon the 
hot and rushing combat, like Helen on the walls of Troy. 
The peach-like cheek of Smyser and his flute-like tones 
turned her traitor to her Borgy. You see, in his Fresh 
days, Borgy had dared to challenge Cupid Parmly for an 
indignity shown him. He wanted an apology or blood. 
When he saw what was passing on the foot-ball grounds, he 
at once accused Smyser of seeking to win the affections of 
her whom his soul loved. He at once got his answer. 
" You are a — gentleman." Then followed a flow of fiery 
words. Blows might have ensued, had they not been torn 
apart. But it did not end here. The fire of vengeance 
smouldered in Borgy's bosom. In the evening he smote 
upon Smyser's door, and as so lofty a soul would naturally 
expect-to-rate high, he aimed at Smyser's face. Then with 
rapid stride he fled adown the iron steps of East. Smy 
followed in hot pursuit ; across the Campus, round old 
North, tore the two mashers in their mad career. Thrice 
around the ancient buildings sped the twain, until, fairly 
winded, Borgy apologized, and in exhausted tones, cried 
weakly, " I — I'll take you down to call on her !" This satis- 
fied Smy, but when they did call, alas ! at the door they 
were confronted by the damsel herself, who vented her feel- 
ings thus — " Herr von Borgmeyer, I wish no more to do with 
you. Gaze no longer on these features. Your language 
yesterday was shameful. I heard you cry out " hel' !" 
; ' Woe is me !" moaned Borgmeyer," Eliza, thou knowest 
that I love but thee, and only to-day you wrote me that you 
could never love another. Why this sudden change ? I 
would fight for you — I would" — but here he paused to 
wring his hands, and then, while the pale moon shone on 
the brow of Smyser without, these two fond hearts mur- 



58 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

mured soft nothings to each other within. Smyser was left 
in the same way as formerly at the Fern. Sem. at Burling- 
ton. Within was peace, accomplished solely by that foot- 
ball game, and so ended the sport for the season. 

In Soph year, Mr. Slayback had a cow. He may have 
her yet, but it is dubious. It was said sh 2 perished from 
cerebro-spinal meningitis, but the report is probably un- 
founded, as she was not given to violent exercise. Jim 
Harlan thinks she cried herself to death under the base 
idea of being thought a Freshman, with the outrageous ad- 
dition of introducing co-education. The cow was quietly 
grazing one night, about eleven, in the Fall of '80, over be- 
yond Pach's studio. It struck the kindly minds of several 
of the class that she ought to be under cover, and that old 
North was a fit and proper place. A relic of the rope-pull 
with '82, about three yards long, was fitted to her horns, 
and under escort of half a dozen fellows she was led to the 
College gates in stately array. Then came the problem, 
" How on earth shall we get her up the steps ?" But noth- 
ing is impossible to the Sophomore. Bold Harlan grasped 
her head — two more assisted her flanks — one clutching her 
" streamer " from the rear, and so, step by step, that ancient 
female was helped up the two stone flights and there tied to 
Landis' door. Green paint was produced, and she was 
adorned as a member of '84. She had passed her examina- 
tion, when Walter Green tried to milk her, and landed 
some twelve feet off. She had entered without conditions, 
and, therefore, why she should set up such an infernal bel- 
low was a wonder. It was not because she was to have 
such classmates as those who had just been with her — it 
was not because she was the only female in College, for 
there was Nancy Lee, the " affectionate Knight," beside the 
sweet Lucy ; it was because she had lost her calf. She 
heard Darlington leap from his downy slumber, and thought 
he was her lost darling. Captain was on guard that night, 
and, thinking something might happen, had employed a 



HISTORY OF THE GLASS OF '83. 59 

burly Princeton policeman to assist him — not Tom Carroll. 
They heard the racket in North. Out from the College 
offices they poured, to clutch their prey. Captain was inno- 
cently tripped up, and brass buttons suddenly remetabered 
an engagement to patrol the streets. Down past the Library, 
up the street to the University Hotel, and so around to Ord, 
they went. There stood Captain with his sub. " Good 
evening, Captain," they cried with one acclaim. "Hello, 

boys, the d Freshmen are out," replied the Captain, 

" putting up their procs." After volunteering their services, 
the boys sought their couches, while the Fresh proc. was 
safely stowed in North, making things hideous in more ways 
than one. In the morning, as the Class Historian gazed 
about six o'clock from the window of Reunion, he beheld 
a procession. Down came that unhappy cow, Tom firmly 
holding her rudder, Matt in front, and Murdoch and Gil- 
more at the sides. Nothing more was needed save one 
resounding voice — " Get out of me College !" 

We have stated that, as a rule, a class is a great deal 
fresher as Sophomores than as Freshmen. This is easily 
explained. The first year of college life, the fear of the 
Sophomore makes the Freshman particularly careful to 
smother all possible indications of greenness. There are, 
of course, here and there, notable exceptions. But the rule, 
nevertheless, exists. In the first year of freedom from res- 
traint, all the inherent freshness springs forth and blooms 
luxuriously. 

In our class, perhaps the freshest crowd, in Soph year, 
was that known as the South Edwards gang. During Fresh- 
hood they were becomingly meek and retiring. But never 
did day bring forth such change as the day that made them 
Sophomores. Edwards immediately became Pandemonium. 
Its entries were nightly disturbed by violent crashes and 
yells that would have done credit to a band of Sioux. Ben 
Mitchell's room was the headquarters of this intrepid band, 
and the frequenters thereof were Peter Rue, Bob Yard, Ben 



60 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

Butler, Jack Murdoch, and Lord John. Where in the world 
all the dry-goods boxes came from, was a mystery ; but 
nearly every night, in the neighborhood of one o'clock, a 
frightful crash in the entry below awakened many a weary 
sleeper. But the trouble was not always occasioned by a 
box. Boards, torn from Ord Hall walk; ash-pans, dexter- 
ously snatched from under the very eyes of the entry ser- 
vant; slides, from the coal-shutes; earthen drain-pipes — 
anything, almost, answered the purpose equally well. Then, 
there came a time when these harmless little projectiles did 
not make noise enough to please these bad boys ; and a 
Freshman was taken into the service and ordered to procure 
some fire-crackers from Trenton. One night, a loud report, 
followed by a despairing cry, brought a frightened crowd 
out into the entry, to find — nothing. One was inserted un- 
der Tutor Marsh's transom, with great effect. Another was 
lighted, and deposited in Victor's door-way. Startling and 
unexpected was the result. Our California desperado ap- 
peared, with poker in one hand and pistol in the other, and 
commenced firing in the most reckless fashion at the brick 
wall opposite. This aroused Sam Rendall, '81, who was at 
once on the scene with another seven-shooter. Of all the 
inmates of the entry, Lord John, Peter, and Benny, were 
the most surprised. 

Another time a great ash-pan was abstracted from the 
cellar, and filled with coal and tomato cans. About twelve 
at night these misguided youths conveyed the same to the 
top of North Edwards. But, alas ! for human expectations. 
The watchman stationed at the temporary structure sus- 
pected foul play, and sounded a note of warning. Matt 
was at once on hand, and safety necessitated the abandon- 
ment of the booty at the head of the stairs. The party 
found refuge in Lord John's room. Here the five, John, 
Peter, Ben Mitchell, Bob Yard and Ben Butler, remained 
all night in beds spread on the floor by the fire. The tramp 
of heavy feet below indicated that a search w T as being made. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 61 

A knock was beard at several doors. Lord John at once 
locked three of the party in the closet, while the other two 
occupied the bed. Somebody came up stairs rapidly. The 
plot thickened. Then a crash indicated that somebody had 
found the ash-pan, and probably sat down in it. He came 
no farther. But even at four o'clock the tramping was con- 
tinued. But out of this, as out of all other deeds of dark- 
ness, this unholy band escaped undiscovered. 

Cooper was the " keener " of the class. Robeson would 
stay up all night preparing his folding cribs, and the next 
morning, when the General would give the order, "Sitzen 
sie hier in front," would innocently hand in a blank paper 
and silently leave the room. Not so Coop. In the first 
place, he never prepared a crib — it was too much labor lost. 
In the second place, he never, under any conditions, handed 
in a paper worth less than 75. In Cam, he used to carry 
trans., text, grammar, and Liddell and Scott. His native 
size was not immense, so he could carry in a small library 
to supply the deficiency. When Cam asked for a Homeric 
reproduction of a dozen lines of Greek, Coop was in his 
element, and offered to help everybody. He reproduced, 
but his reproduction, unlike that of Benny Mitchell, was 
not the result of cramming. The College suffered a severe 
loss when Coop left on the midnight train — so did Hankins. 
Had he staid, who can tell what fresh invention would have 
germinated in that fertile brain ? His first production was 
just on the point of perfection when relentless Fate hurried 
him to the unwelcome fields of Pennsylvania. It needs but 
description to be appreciated. Wires were to be laid under 
the matting of the stairs leading to Examination Hall. 
These were to be connected with a desk, and by a delicate 
telephonic apparatus, could sound the contents of examina- 
tion papers to the patient listener below. It was to be called 
" The Students' Friend, or the Grading System made plain." 
He saw before him a fortune, but nobly resolved to labor 
only for the good of his fellow-men, even though no reward 



62 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

greeted his thankless toil. Each particular part must be 
carefully measured and adjusted ere he could obtain a patent. 
His chronic weakness of eye finally forced him to retire to 
his father's house. 

Billy Scott was not only the owner of that huge clock, of 
which we have all heard, but he drinks "brue," and speaks 
French. He is bad, and when he tries for the Glee Club, 
give him lots of room. Billy bet ten dollars, in his early 
days, that he would not only be a member of the foot-ball 
team, and a J. O., but the leader of the Glee Club. Alas! 
poor Scotty ! stern Fate forbade him all. He spoke French 
like a native of Kamtchatka. Joe Seguin hailed him, on 
the Campus, with " Ou va tu?" Billy said he thought not 
— at least, he hadn't heard of it. Perry said he took Math. 
Elective, and followed the example of Lee, of Freshman 
fame ; but we have only Perry's word for it, and the fact 
that he was so intimate with Tutor Halsted would lead one 
to take the statement with several grains of salt. The great 
Scott act came into notice in Soph year, and it is one of the 
many things rendering Billy famous. He was down in 
Seguin's room, and the boys grew hilarious ; he was asked 
to partake of " brue," an imported champagne. Of course 
he was delighted, and swallowed half a glass. He said the 
old brand was better — "brue" couldn't have him ! 

Hicks and Billy tried for the Glee Club, at the same time, 
and both met with the same fate. When Victor was asked, 
the following day, what they said to him and his fellow- 
aspirant, he curtly answered, " Go to ! " Whether they 

were told this or not, is hard to say. 

The time for sickness had now come. Nothing serious — 
simply a slight yearning for mental relaxation. Landy 
Green started out well on Monday morning, and thinking 
best to put in a full week, concluded to get sick. He was 
often under the weather, from a variety of reasons, but this 
time it was out of the usual line. According to law, he was 
reported on the sick list, and Jimmy'came up to see him on 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 63 

Sunday. There was Borgraeyer, reading the Police Gazette, 
and the "Wreck" sat smoking. In came the august visitor. 
Green was thunder-struck. "Mr. Green, ye missed a foine 
sermon to-day, Mr. Green ! " " Yes ; I am sorry, sir," 
answered Landy. " Ye're unwell to-day; and what's the 
trouble ? " " Well, Doctor, I've been polling too hard," 
was the guileless reply. Borgy was a little flustered, and 
misunderstood a succeeding remark of Jimmy's, and sup- 
posed he had been asked to pray. He therefore proceeded, 
in his basso-profundo, but the Doctor went on telling Landy 
— " Ye'd better go home, if ye don't get well soon." Borgy 
was insulted, and left the room, resolved never so quickly to 
offer his services again. 

Perry, to keep up with the style, thought he must get sick 
too. After attending a spread in Peter Rue's room, he com- 
plained of a cold in the head and sent for a doctor. The 
latter came, prescribed, and left. Rudd grew tender- 
hearted, the gentle boy, and telegraphed home for Perry's 
people. The telegram reached the quiet town of Freehold 
during the Sunday morning service, and the whole village 
was in a ferment, fearing lest Freddie had been annihilated. 
Two doctors and Perry's excellent paternal and maternal 
ancestors started at once for Princeton and found the sick 
child with normal pulse and a slight cold. He took a vaca- 
tion for two weeks to recuperate — in fact, he was affected 
for a whole year by a Summer tramp, in which he had been 
badly left by her whom he adored. 

Half the year had already passed in Sophomoric luxury, 
but we were still fresh. Ready for anything on the Cam- 
pus — unready for anything in the class room. George 
Fleming thought he was ready one day to leave Pat's lecture 
room, but, like Bert Carman in Bruce Halsted, he slipped 
up. George felt seedy — he had ridden ten miles westward 
the previous night, and was in poor trim to sit and listen to 
a discourse on these ones. When Pat had taken up the oyster, 
with the remark — " D'ye see, this little fellow is an oyster," 



64 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

George slipped down behind the high seats of the chemical 
room. Whether it was the result of the shock to his nerves 
by the sudden news about the oyster, or whether he thought 
he was better off in Dreamland, is uncertain. But the eye 
which could penetrate the mollusc was not to be blinded by 
the act of a vertebrate. He saw the head bob down, and 
started on a mad rush for the door. The fleeing George 
was collared and marched back, while " These Ones " re- 
sumed his place at the desk, shouting, " Your name, 
please!" The feeble answer came, "Flem'g." "Your 
name, I say," again pealed forth the voice, and again came 
"Flem'," without any audible second syllable. "Spell 
your name, please !" but George was too scared to obey, 
and after spelling his name four times, every way but the 
right way, he at last remembered who he was. After an 
invitation to a private interview, things went on in the even 
tenor of their way. Here came in the genius of Flip, radi- 
ant as in math. At the biology examination, after giving 
some startlingly new ideas gained from personal observa- 
tions, he ended his paper with a few remarks gotten from 
the lectures. " The oyster is good to eat with milk onto 
them, which is generally scarce in Princeton. It is sup- 
posed by scientists that they live on the milk supposed to 
be in stews, and die because they don't find it there. The 
oyster's heart is always in his mouth, but his mouth is not 
in the right place. N. B. — I have never seen an oyster's 
mouth. The oyster is well enough in his place — which is 
in your mouth — but a poor watch-dog by reason of his not 
having any teeth." His knowledge was evidently thorough 
and he was ready for the next course. It may be said that 
he illustrated his paper by an exquisite crayon-drawing of 
an oyster and a bull-dog, to show the points of unlikeness, 
which doubtless pulled him through. 

Jim Harlan made himself famous in " Bones." Always 
ready to lead the way, whether in a political movement, 
class-cut on election day or a cane-rush. Schanck was giv- 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 65 

ing the boys a few ideas on " Will-power" and " Muscular 
Action," dwelling especially on the feet Here was a chance 
for Jim. He prided himself on his ability to lead the class, 
and in this respect he was leader. "Now, you see, I say, 
4 foot, come up,' and it comes up," said the Professor. With 
this Jim's voice rang out, " Now, fellows, down with your 
feet!" but Jim's were the only ones to come down, and 
then " Bones " came down on him. The old Scientif. shook 
to its very foundation. Some thought that one of Cam's 
jokes had rocketed through the window and had gone off; 
others conjectured that the relic of Germany had been 
kicked in the head, while others thought that Updike had 
uttered his first audible tone. Schanck explained : " Gen- 
tlemen, you are under obligations to Mr. Harlan. He has 
illustrated my point, and if he will now show on the board 
how much force was necessary and how much will-power' 
required to raise them up, I will present him with a super- 
fluous ornament which Mr. Antrim has attached to the man- 
ikin. Gentlemen, 

' You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will, 
But the size of his hoof will cling to him still.' " 

Jim had enough anatomy of the lower extremities to last 
him throughout his entire College course. 

The Rocky Hill skating club was at its zenith. Baldwin 
and chum had not yet appeared on the lyric stage to pur- 
chase a fence for the Episcopal Qhurch in that city. Harsha 
was still new. He bad not taken that deep interest in this 
suburban resort which han marked most of the actions of 
the "Big Seven." He had not yet followed up the ac- 
quaintances made on that memorable night in Fresh year. 
He went out to skate, but so captivated was he that skating 
was out of the question. He borrowed a rocking-chair 
from a neighboring house, and slid those maidens up and 
down the frozen surface until he would fain cry for a rest, 
'neath the pale rays of Luna. Ah ! what a time he had ! He 
5 



66 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

remarked the next day that he had often been told he was a 
fool, but now he was sure of it. The rest of the fellows 
enjoyed themselves between the acts with the merry-making 
Rock and Rye. But to Pard no such bliss was granted ! 
Finally, they all adjourned to the mansion on the hill side, 
which was another retreat for math-wearied brains. Harsha 
here amused the crowd once more. He was persuaded to 
. recite " Mary had a little lamb " and why not ? Joe and 
Preach had always been persuaded by the same charmers — in 
fact Joe staid away in consequence of the promise of a stern 
application from the ruler of the mansion. Bert immortal- 
ized himself and never entered the place again. There 
stood the representative of the Riding Club, pretending he 
could see. One of his senses had become so active when 
lights were out that he needed no other. There, too, stood 
-the Herculean form of Baldwin, trying to court the favor of 
the girls by playing with " Lidy Down." In the corner sat 
the charmers, giggling over the softness of the Sophs. In 
a stage whisper one was heard to murmur, " They're just 
the same — just the same as Sophs have always been." 

It had long been a weight on the minds of the occupants 
of Witherspoon how best to sound the engine bell in dead 
of night, and so arouse the town. At last Dick Norris, 
Riggs and Peace solved it. What they were to do was 
never told; they had some cunning scheme which was 
bound to work — a scheme which Flip said they had down 
so fine that his renowned formula given to Duff applied per- 
fectly. On the appointed night the three set out for the 
depot, confident of success. But alas ! they couldn't get 
in. They had not provided against such an event. Their 
mission, however, was not to be entirely fruitless. A huge 
wheel lay within their grasp. Now, what good this would 
do them they hardly knew themselves. Dick said after- 
wards that they intended to give it to Joe Seguin, who was 
building a private engine. Brownie needed it, for he went 
to New York once a week to get a bath and have his hair 
cut. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 67 

Just as they were about to remove the rotatory prize, a 
figure dawned, dim and dusky, in the darkling distance. 
The wheel fell from their strengthless grasp, Dick sprawled 
all over the railroad track, while his hat flew one way and 
his glasses another. Away they went and fled behind Whig. 
After a half hour they emerged, and the same ghostly figure 
was there. A hot pursuit ensued. They scrambled round, 
and after much toil they fell through the rear windows of 
Witherspoon. Quaking with fear, they sought their mat- 
tresses. Soon came the doleful howl of Flip, " 's delight, 

what is the matter, you fellows ? You know I was only try- 
ing to join you." They all rose, voted it a good joke, and 
celebrated it then and there — then and there. What a 
Witherspoon celebration is no man knows save he who has 
been there. Dick's poetic muse awoke, and his last coher- 
ent sentence was — 

" The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, 
We quietly subsided and acknowledged — we're sold ! " 

Spring had come, but there was nothing strange in that, 
neither was there anything wonderful in the fact that the 
C. B.'s went down to Manasquan river to practice survey- 
ing. The interesting part was what happened there. While 
this mathematical group was gathered on the bleak Atlantic 
shore, there Frank Roberts allowed his angry passions to 
rise when Billy Field and Clair Royle had fixed his bed for 
the night. 

But a more soul-stirring event took place. Reddy Gulick 
had visited the village of Manasquan, and through a letter 
of introduction he became known unto a heart-smashing 
damsel. After an hour or two Reddy thought he was solid, 
as he always does think. 'Twas Saturday night; the party 
started for Princeton, but Princeton had no charms for 
Reddy. The night before he had told his beloved and 
hastily-made mash that he would take her riding the next 
day. Meeting with no refusal, he of course supposed the 



68 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

way was clear. "I feel sorry for you, Smike," said he, as 
the less fortunate ones proceeded toward the train. "But 
we are not all born lucky, are we, old fel ?" So the happy 
youth was left, but as yet only by his fellows. The moment 
came. Reddy drove up in fine style, alighted and entered 

the hotel. " Is Miss Q in ?" he enquired. Forth she 

came. Reddy, with jaunty air, asked if she was ready to 
take the ride. " Ride !" said she. " What will my husband 
say ?" " Great Heavens ! Husband ? But you're fooling, 
aren't you ?" " Ko," was the reply, " my husband is up- 
stairs now." His heart sank within him. He had no 
words with which to describe such conduct. His affections 
had been wrought up to the highest pitch, but his mental 
barometer now fell. To convince the sceptical youth, he 
was led more in sorrow than in anger to a private room, 
where he was introduced to the monster who had already 
won the hand and heart of her who had filled him with such 
lofty hope. Reddy didn't know exactly where he was, much 
less what to say. That sickly smile came o'er his features 
as he begged a thousand pardons of her injured spouse. 
" Oh, never mind that," was the answer, " you are still 
young and fresh." " Good evening, sir, I hope I haven't 
missed my — my train for Princeton, have I?" The last 
train had gone, and Reddy had been left all around. The 
laughable part of the thing was that the girl was not mar- 
ried, and that Reddy had been introduced to a gentleman 
friend merely. He spent a lonely Sunday in Manasquan, and 
wandering by the side of the sounding sea, he bade his sor- 
rowing heart be still, while he fancied his ship of life dashed 
by the angry billows on that lonely shore, and wrecked on 
the rocks of hard luck. He returned Monday morning, and 
swore never to put faith in any Jersey woman, old or 
young, married or unmarried. 

For Wally Bell, all the world had grown sad and dreary, 
save one little spot in the northern part of New Jersey — 
Roselle. Poker had lost its charms ; Peter had been roped 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 69 

until it had become monotonous ; no more did deaf and 
dumb talk cross the street with the once precious Jewells of 
his heart, and even Sally on the ave. had become a poor 
companion for his hours of brooding sorrow. There were 
others too, who, " When the Spring-time comes, gentle 
Annie," were affected the same way. Jerry Haxall got 
deep in the mire, but dodged out. Warcly met with a sim- 
ilar fate, without the redeeming feature; Hawes had gone 
so far as to have the title of a farm near Blawenburgh exam- 
ined ; Tape, it was said, had met a gushing Jersey girl at 
Cranbury, but, of course, was " too poor to marry ; " while 
Ned Peace and Flip had engaged themselves four times 
during the year, and were ready for four more. But, as the 
General says when the hour is up, let us return to our sub- 
ject. Bell's heart was wavering between wifey in the West 
and wifey number two in Koselle. April was half gone. 
If there was not a twenty-page letter every night, the reason 
was like geometry to Wes Lynde — intangible. When he 
received a letter from his prospective mother-in-law, advis- 
ing him not to leave his studies so often, the Western blood 
was fired. She could go to Halifax. He knew the reason — 
it was some other man. He would at once hie him to his 
Western love. Then he would repent of his rashness, take 
a few days' vacation and return as blue, but not as cheerful, 
as the Summer sky. 

It was in the recitation room of Sororis. Bell was trying 
to recite. The Greek root muncher was quite sure that 
Wally could rejprojuce in Greek any common English, and 
tried him thus : " Mr. Bell, how often are you wont to visit 
the city?" Bell didn't catch on. Carman suggested to 
him to put it in Greek, but it was a little too much for his 
Hellenic knowledge. Again the leader of the " Pumpkin 
Pirates " asked him to translate " Whom are you wont to 
visit when you are away from Tip IIptvarwTjV?" That was 
too much for Bell. " Well, Professor Orris, I don't intend 
to answer. I don't see whose business it is but my own, 



70 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

whether I go to see Mary Jane, Mamie or Sally." " Mr. 
Bell, Mr. Bell, I fear your heart is not here, but wandering 
amid the perishable things of this changeful world." 
" "Well, Professor, you are right," said the youthful victim 
from Blinois. That was the last time his beaming face was 
seen, and silver tongue heard in recitation. He paid Rose 
two dollars and a half to see that his grave was kept green, 
or, in other words, to display his photograph at the door of 
the post office for three years. Then, to make things fair 
and square, he jumped accounts and started for Chicago, 
where lawyers abound and divorces are easily obtained. 

Our nine had now such a rep. that the idea had become 
fixed in the minds of nine men — " we can sweep the Soph- 
omores of the land." Chester was to be the first Waterloo 
for our foe, and then Yale and Harvard were to meet their 
Sedan. Boldly Kentucky Jim entered the Faculty room, 
and delivered a set speech on the victory which was to be 
scored for Princeton. Of course he got leave, and ten more 
joyful faces could not be seen than those which started for 
the Pennsylvania Military Academy. When they had 
arrived and had entered the grounds, two professionals were 
seen and recognized. Chester was sore over their defeat at 
foot-ball, and swore to redeem themselves now or never. 
Our boys had been lucky enough to get their dinner, and 
were as independent as Jack Hodge ever dreamed of being. 
The military boys vowed they had no professionals — none 
but students. But when the matter was pressed home, they 
caved, and admitted the fact on the ground of self-defense. 
To end the story, our nine started for home, feeling sure 
that they had spent a day, beside their expenses, and had 
nothing to show for it but the base-ball bats they had taken 
along, and the fictitious names of some lovely maidens whom 
they had met and left forever. Love's labor was lost ; the 
nine disbanded for the season to recuperate for another 
year's labors. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 71 

Our required course in Cam was nearly done, and all 
determined to make the most of the few remaining hours. 
All attempts in Fresh year had failed to force out the expec- 
torating joke. This year he had been more lenient, and had 
given us the time-honored story of the Frenchman who 
would drown, and didn't care a " Mary had a little lamb " 
whether anyone helped him or not, and so on to the second 
aorist of la^dvoi. The last day and the last hour had come. 
All felt ready to celebrate the departure of the undying 
Homer, "the world's greatest man." Carman was up, and 
getting rattled on j^fev, said it came from la^avw. Result : 
a flunk, and the eternal wrath of the lecturer on the " equiv- 
alent of water." "Gentlemen, my paper is lilled with 
disorder marks already, and there is no more room." 
Harsha passed a piece of blank paper up to Baker, and the 
latter, with pure motives, thought he was doing a deed of 
kindness when he handed it up to the desk. Cam added 
some hieroglyphics, and passed it back to Tommy, with the 
injunction not to allow it to be seen. But Harsha rushed to 
the front, and, taking the paper, read aloud, "three disorder 
marks." This created the wildest confusion, and Preach 
left a fine sample of McAlpin's plug on the map of Greece. 
When the last man had recited, Victor was prevailed upon 
to deliver a farewell address. Slowly he arose. "Prof. 
Cameron, it is with mingled feelings of joy and — " With a 
wave of the hand he was silenced with the remark, " Sit 
down, Mr. Hicks. I don't want to hear you." "Well," 
said Hicks, afterward, " it wasn't a gentlemanly thing for 
the professor to do, anyhow." 

So ended our Hellenic days. All had learned to parse 
the second aorist, all could write Homeric Greek — when the 
text was before them, — and all rejoiced that they had met 
their last y-a\ yap. 

Along in second term the perennial mortar board put 
forth a new sprout, showed a few despondent leaves, and 
tried its best to blossom. 



72 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF >88. 

Gil began it. Let the vials of wrath be emptied upon his 
head, for he was the cause of the whole trouble. Gil is 
English, you know; and he began to talk about school days 
over the water, how comfortable a mortar-board was, and 
to bow many uses it could be put — till at length th.3 class 
thought that the mortar-board was about the proper thing. 
Now, once get a community of any sort in favor of a meas- 
ure, and, be it ever so ridiculous, that measure, and that 
alone, is going to be put through. So it was with us. To 
listen to a debate on the mortar-board question was to be 
filled with amazement to think that mortar-boards were not 
in general use all over the world. What a convenience, 
what an absolute downright blessing was as yet compara- 
tively unknown to humanity! They looked heavy, but 
pshaw ! they were lighter than any other hat you could 
have. Yes, and then they kept the sun off you so well: 
the rim wasn't right over your eyes like a hat, you know, 
but raised more like a parasol. The tassel, too, was a nice 
thing ; it kind o' kept time with you when you walked. 
Yes, and if a brick should ever fall on your head, why it 
would lessen the force of the blow so that you'd hardly 
feel it. 

Jack Murdock appointed himself High Chief and Grand 
Marshal, and argued himself several shades redder every 
day. 

A class meeting was held on the subject. It was voted to 
ask '82 and '84 to join the movement. The principal argu- 
ments on both sides were brought up. The mortar-board 
men were loudly cheered. Those speaking on the opposite 
side were hooted at and talked down. Wes Lynde, on this 
occasion, made the memorable speech of his life, advocating 
the introduction of rawhide pantaloons and patent leather 
collars. He also intimated that mortar-boards would reach 
the acme of their utility as cuspidors. But Wes was on the 
unpopular side, and his eloquence was wasted. The meas- 
ure was triumphantly passed, and a committee appointed to 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 73 

take orders and secure the mortars. '84 responded cheer- 
fully, but '82 would not follow our lead. A Sunday was ap- 
pointed when all should appear at once. The effect was 
tremendous. It was a gala day for the snobs who gathered 
in crowds on the corners whenever a festive Sophomore 
passed. Jack and Gil were heroes. Long live their mem- 
ory ! 

But, alas! for human expectations. Two weeks fled, and 
but half the original number of mortar-boards appeared 
upon the Campus. A month passed by, and the man with 
a mortar-board was the subject of as much idle curiosity as 
Lord John in his scarlet tie. 

And here, again, we draw the curtain, and put out the 
lights of the second year of '83. With its varying April 
days of pleasure and annoyance, of hours well spent and 
hours too often wasted, we look back on those riotous days 
with a strange mixture of pleasure and of pain. We tried 
our teachers' hearts, no doubt, but no more than they tried 
our brains. For what was to our credit, we rejoice; for 
that in which we erred, we can only plead the exuberance 
of youth, and make amends in our coming Junior year. 



74 HISTORY OF THE 0LAS8 OF 



Jumtxx ijfeat:* 



We have lived through the verdure of Freshmen, 

We have held one long Sophomore spree, 
And now, on the threshold of Junior, 

Where are there such scholars as we? 

When we gathered once more, in the cool September 
morn, we didn't differ much in stature or numbers — or in 
knowledge either, for that matter — from the old crowd of a 
few months before. Yet there was a sort of chrysalis-like 
change, from the caterpillar to the butterfly, as it were. To 
be sure, we all felt a little stiffish about the wings, but we 
knew that would pass. Sophomore year died hard. It had 
been little better than a loaf throughout, and no one would 
have grumbled to keep up the same thing for two more 
years. Some of us never did recover from those halcyon days 
of do-nothingdom. 

And yet we all knew that we were no longer scheming, 
plotting Sophomores, up to anything but hard work. If 
Billy Agnew and Ben Butler were asked by a Freshman 
how they got through Sammy's Greek Prose, they couldn't 
help that. Their verdancy was inborn. With these, and a 
few other exceptions, the class at once pulled down its vest, 
straightened its cravat, put on its dig., rescued the unfledged 
when assailed, protected them from outrage, trained them 
for the riotous rush, and imparted to them such stores of 
wisdom as could only fall from the lips of Flint or Harlan. 
As to advice, it flowed free as the water from '81's fountain. 
Lord John at once saw his chance to benefit his fellow- 
Freshmen. He said he wished to benefit mankind, but it is 
hardly necessary to state that, by mankind, he meant his 
Lordship. His heart was good enough, until he got travel- 
ing with Smyser and Benny Mitchell. And he meant well, 
but was always in his own way. Scarcely had '83 bios- 






HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 75 

somed into Juniorhood than, under the noble Lord's direc- 
tion, the Campus was deluged and the bulletin-tree covered 
with notices, of which the following is a true copy : 

"General Information Bureau. 
For the accommodation of new Students, I will be at my office, on 
the seventh floor of Red Tap Hall, every day, to give such information 
as may be desired relative to Board, Washing, Rooms, and Books. 
Special advice to Freshmen — gratis. 

Lord John Russell. 

S^° Publishers' Bills are now due, at 3 N. W. 

IST" fi@* Board on the Princeton plan, $1.50 per week. 

L. J. R." 

He made a hit. Some meek specimen of loneliness and 
general forlornness would see the notice, amble up to the 
"Bureau," walk in, and there behold his highness smoking 
a "two-for," fragrant as myrrh, and computing the loss on 
an unruly keg of butter. John's information was fluent — 
stereotyped, in fact. 

" As for board," he would remark, " you will find my 
one-dollar-aud-a-half club just the thing. Hash in every 
style, with or without bangs or hair-pins, and butter im- 
ported from my own, my own native State — Maryland." 
Of course that settled it. Who could withstand such a bill 
of fare ? To be sure, John had a special one for himself, 
for he said this was the only thing that made club-running 
endurable. Next in importance on the list of information 
topics was the subject of Books. He told Buckelew and 
Toler that he had an uncle who died recently — a large pub- 
lisher ot text-books — and he had inherited his entire stock. 
He was therefore in a better position to sell below cost than 
the Eastern capitalists, Wilson and Karner. The majority 
of the books he was selling at a figure simply sufficient to 
cover freight charges. " You will find me at 3 N. W. at 
any time — that is, either myself, or my partner Rue, or our 
special agent Petty." So far the information was given 
from purely benevolent motives. 



76 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

But when it came to the Room and Laundry question, his 
little heart fluttered beneath his charitable bosom as he took 
a whiff on his borrowed cigarette. Lord John had met 
with a sad experience in his Soph year. He had been sent 
to Prof. Cameron's to have his washing done, and had, 
through the kindness of his friends, applied at the office of 
the treasurer for a room in the new Hall between Whig and 
Clio. With tearful eye he narrated to each caller his rash 
mistakes made even in Soph year. It had sorely wounded 
his pride, he said, but he had determined to run things on 
a business principle, and had therefore taken the agency for 
washing at the moderate charge of one per cent, on all 
amounts paid. It may be a matter of wonder to many, 
whence " My Lord " had acquired this propensity, but it is 
written in the police records of the city of ]S"ew York. He 
had wandered there one Saturday, richly dressed in a 
flaming red neck-tie and bright yellow kid gloves. As he 
sauntered through Chatham street, pondering over his 
chances for the mental science fellowship, he was stopped 
suddenly by the mellow-voice of an auctioneer. He paused, 
entered a cigar store where the stock. was being sold at a 
sacrifice. Ten boxes of imported cigars were offered for sale, 
and Lord John, in order to let people know that he had a 
word to say in the management of affairs, started the bid- 
ding at one dollar. From that figure it rapidly rose to 
three — four — and at last to five dollars. He thought this a 
large sum to invest in cigars — more than cigarettes had cost 
him all his life. And yet he could not rid himself of the 
idea that ten boxes of cigars for the small sum of five dol- 
lars and a half was a splendid bargain. " Must be sold ! 
must be sold !" still rang out in clarion tones. " Clear 
Havanas at five for the lot I'm offered — five — five — will the 
richly-dressed young man make it five and a half? Five 
n'alf I'm offered — going — going — gone !" John stepped up 
and threw down the amount bid. Applying all the busi- 
ness principle he possessed, he supposed he had bought the 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 77 

entire lot for this sum. Imagine his dismay when he was 
told he had bought the lot at that rate per box. He w r as 
required to deposit all his money, after which he started for 
a policeman. The latter referred him to a Police Justice 
up town, who referred him to another office, where he was 
told to call again in a week. He left the money and cigars 
and called the next week. "Its a dogged swindle! I want 
the man arrested and my money back." He was told to 
calm his feelings, go down and get his cigars, pay his fifty- 
five dollars, and go home a wiser youth. He did so ; he 
came back to Princeton animated with the same spirit which 
inspired the auctioneer, started the book and butter busi- 
ness, and gave one cigar as a prize to every purchaser to the 
amount of half a dime. For further information on the 
cigar traffic, apply to Whitlock, who had a like experience. 
From that day John became a rival of W. and K., and sold 
his books at a great loss to regain the fifty-five dollars. The 
price of board at his club went up to one dollar and fifty- 
two, and commission on laundry work soared to one and a 
half per cent. It was simply an incident in the logic of 
events which was destined to make a bloated bond-holder 
of this ever memorable public beneficiary. 

Every one was filled with surprise to see a figure blowing 
about the Campus, which was so familiar in Fresh year. In 
those early days it had been a hard subject to classify. As 
Lucretius would say, it was neither one thing nor the other, 
but far removed from both. It was Lee, of honey man fame; 
Lee, surnamed Venus, the well-loved friend of Buck Antrim; 
Lee, who had been a class honor-man in Fresh year. When 
the final came in algebra, he entered into an agreement with 
Bell that they mutually assist one another. He was careful 
to have his assistance first; and when he had all he wanted, 
he was deaf to his assistant's entreaties, and, marching out 
with a smile on his face, scored a hundred on Rockwood and 
one point on the Western masher. Bell chewed the filthy 
weed, and expectorated fire for three weeks. Whenever 



78 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 

Lee was in sight, Wally would run up to a friend and beg 
him to hold him that he might do no violence to the person 
of this Boonton anomaly. Lucy ventured the remark that 
Lee had shenanegagged. "I guess you shenanegrgged," 
was the reply. " What a honeyman that was, O, Venus ! " 
" You're getting off a honeyman yourself," he retorted. 
But the lovely youth had been at Harvard in the interven- 
ing time, or, at least he said he had, and he came back 
adorned, as to his button-hole, with a red, red rose, and a 
determination to inscribe his name among the honored once 
more. But the graceful swing clung to him still. The 
same joint was loose in the hip movement, and the same 
love as of yore abode between him and the emigrant from 
the far Pacific. For Karner and Lucy he had no love, and 
soon the last spark of affection for Old Nassau died out. 
He left. He may have gone to Yale, but it is more prob- 
able that he settled down in New Jersey to repent the 
crooked path he had trod. 

But mark yon towering form, carrying all before him with 
commanding figure and sonorous voice. It holds Bert 
Agnew in tow, the meek and lowly, and hails from Steuben- 
ville. Call him the chairman of Ede's bouncing committee; 
call him a member of the Bed Ticket Seven ; call him the 
famous umpire of the West; call him anything, in fact — 
and from the midst of the densest throng he would leap 
responsive, shouting, " Me name's Billy Trainer every time! 
What are you taking ? " He is an energetic bird ; he joined 
Whig Hall, had an article printed in the Lit., and then chip- 
ped in for more profitable employment during the rest of 
his course. He soon got Bert Agnew entangled in his wily 
net. and the two, under the enticement of Buck Antrim, 
were convinced that Hightstown was the beau ideal of an 
Eastern town. It was formerly suppose that Buck visited 
the Co-ed. Prep, at that place, but he and the heads of Ped- 
dle Institute were not mutual lovers. In fact, Buck had 
told the manager that he might go to a warmer clime, but 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 79 

if he troubled him there would be war. Consequently, when 
the trio, St. John bringing up the rear, reached the well- 
known spot, they had ample opportunity to make thorough 
inspection of the town without the restrictions of formalities. 
They "did" the place to perfection. Buck and Romulus 
went their way, and Bert and Billie did likewise. The last 
two had not spent three years at a Western college simply 
to learn a little Greek. They had there learned the noble 
art of mashing. This they had down so fine that they could 
estimate the possiblilities and probabilities of meeting a girl 
a thousands yards off. As Billie forcibly put it, " We had 
learned how to point our game." From a diary kept at 2 
South Reunion the following particulars are culled : " On 
leaving the bar, where we had found Jersey justice dispensed, 
we decided to inspect the machinery, and especially the 
'stock' of Hightstown's factory. We had not gone far 
when a couple of birds were sighted in the distance, with 
head erect, coming against the wind. Soon they were ours, 
and we offered to escort them home under our protecting 
wings. All went well, and we were progressing finely until 
we reached the house and entered. What there transpired 
is written only too darkly in the memories of two sad and 
weary travelers. Perish the thought; let it go no further." 
But the mystery was happily solved by other two visitors, 
who were trying to walk off the effects of a glass of Vichy. 
As they were passing the residence of the damsels, Billie 
was picking himself up from the front yard, while Bert was 
flying like the wind from a boot which was following him 
with lightning speed and terrific force. He lit in the middle 
of the street, and sweet objects they were. Covered with 
mud and uttering fearful cries, they vowed they would 
" never come no more," and then hunted a pump, where 
they once more became white men. They were ignorant of 
the fact that their comrades had seen the whole affair. 
When they all met there was a general salute. " Oh, we've 
had an elegant time ! Were invited up to the mayor's resi- 



80 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF 'I 



dence and met some beauties ; where have you been ? " said 
the knocked-out- in-one-round Trainer. "We have just 
come from the pump — we were kicked out," replied St. On 
the sword they swore never to tell, but it was too utterly 
good to keep. 

Billie and Bert went out to mash, 
With Hightstown's fairest daughters ; 

They committed an act that was rather rash 
And had to fly to its waters. 

Wardy was bucking Carman and Perry for the experi- 
mental science fellowship, and, consequently, delved into 
anything that had the appearance of a scientific fact. He 
was summering at Asbury Park, and had gone on the roof 
of his boarding-house to practice in first tenor for the Senior 
wandering choir. This was sufficient to create an excite- 
ment which would have satisfied any ordinary mortal, but 
A. C. longed for something more. His eye fell on some 
disjointed bones, which he at once saw were those of a hu- 
man being. Then he speculated and generalized, arriving 
at last at the following conclusion : A terrible deed had 
been committed. A human being had perished by murder 
done with malice aforethought, and he — he, would divulge it 
to an unsuspecting world. He rushed to the office of a Jus- 
tice of the Peace and made the disclosure. He vowed it 
could be nothing but murder, that the very fact of the bones 
lying apart made it plain that there had been a struggle, re- 
sulting in the death of the victim. Further, it was clearly 
a case of foul play, because no money or other valuables 
were found with the bones. A thorough investigation was 
at once ordered, and Wardy was honored by being allowed 
to assist. On the way to the premises, he figured out the 
whole mystery with such mathematical certainty and nice- 
ness that the day of the murder and the probable guilty 
party were at once decided upon. To make his version of 
the case still more plausible and the affair more terrible, he 
illustrated his theory by the aid of the bones of the feet, 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 81 

which he had appropriated to himself. It took about two 
minutes' time, measured by Pard's " solargraph," for the 
police to find that a student of comparative anatomy had 
laid the bones of a rare animal on the roof to dry. Then 
Wardy declared he had meant it for a practical joke. 
" Why, you darn fool, don't you suppose I know a man 
from a kangaroo ? I guess not ! A fellow who has studied 
medicine as much as I have, and then not know — why, its 
idiotic !" However that might be, Wardy paid for his scien- 
tific knowledge. He was arrested on the charge of unlaw- 
fully obtaining and carrying off personal property, took the 
rest of his Summer's allowance to settle the difficulty, after 
which he retired to the residence of a wealthy Connecticut 
uncle to pursue his studies in vocal culture, and prepare for 
a grand concert, to be given at some future date. He gave 
up the fellowship, on his return, and devoted himself en- 
tirely to the anatomical study of the lower animals, starting 
first with the bones which he had discovered on the top of a 
sea-shore house, and which had caused him such endless 
trouble and so many sleeepless nights. It was a practical 
joke after all, but not of the kind that Wardy had de- 
clared it to be. 

The parents of a certain gentleman in '85, noted for his 
small stature and large cheek, came one afternoon to visit 
their darling. It was arranged, for economy's sake, that 
they should occupy their son's room, while he bunked with 
a friend. The arrangement in some way got to the ears of 
Ben Mitchell, who, being in his normal mental condition, 
imparted to Jack Murdoch, Lord John and Smyser a plan 
which met with instant approval. About twelve o'clock, 
these four hid themselves in the passage between the two 
entries of Edwards, and almost under the room occupied by 
the aforesaid parents. The programme for the evening's 
entertainment w as part vocal and part instrumental. Its 
chief fault was too little variety. It commenced with an 
instrumental solo by Smyser, upon the tin water-pipe. The 
6 



82 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

other parts came in at the proper time, Murdoch, with a 
poker in hand, calling forth tones of melting sweetness from 
a sheet-iron blower ; Lord John, on his world-renowned 
and only tooter, and Mitchell lending his harmonious voice 
to the chorus. The whole produced an original and pleas- 
ing effect. Smyser enlivened the periods between perform- 
ances by entertaining remarks and conjectures. But this 
state of affairs was not to last long. Richmond and Brat- 
tan, on the floor above, heard the sweet strains, and were so 
delighted that they at once sallied forth to present the per- 
formers with bouquets. After some search they located the 
music, and, leaning over the upper closet, began to fiing 
them ashy congratulations from above. By this time North 
Edwards was aroused. The situation of the serenaders was 
delicate. Hearing the ovation preparing for them, natural 
modesty prompted them to retire. But this was not so 
easily done ; for the door into North Edwards was locked, 
and to go the way they came was to subject themselves to 
the shower of water, coal and ashes, which Brat and Richie 
were keeping in readiness above. Entreaty and supplica- 
tion on the part of the besieged proved as fruitless as com- 
mands and threats had been. The besiegers were relent- 
less, and answered only in shouts and taunts. 

At length the door was opened, and the party took refuge 
in Lawson's room. But Mr. Kimball, guardian of the 
peace, arrived too soon and spotted the door. Deacon 
White and Potter urged that the door be immediately 
broken in. Finally, upon repeated demand, Lawson opened 
up ; but behold ! he was alone. Mr. Kimball, however, was 
too keen. The closet was unlocked, and out sallied the 
crowd, Benny looking wild, Lord John sheepish, Smy 
brazen, and Jack entirely unconcerned. Mr. Kimball 
looked astonished. Juniors ! Could such things be ? He 
sadly departed. 

But this was not all. Their hearts were wroth at the con- 
duct of those they once called friends, but whom they could 






HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 83 

call friends no longer. They determined to see Richmond 
and Brattan at once. They therefore saw them. 

Not otherwise than when Jumbo, awful beast ! angrily 
beholding every species of domesticated canine frisking 
about the billiard hall, does, erect as to his tail and still 
arisin', snorting forth as with fire and smoke from his dis- 
tended nostrils, leap wildly from Peace's lap, and great is 
the slaughter; thus, indeed, rushed Jack, John, Benny and 
Smy upon the defenceless Brat and Richie. Jack dealt 
logic right and left. Ben used indignation with powerful 
effect. Lord John spoke of honor and friendship. Smy 
breathed forth language terrible in its strength. " You 
ought to be ostracized !" cried Lord John, and the others 
echoed his words. "And I believe our class will ostracize 
you— both of you." 

And this, dear reader, is the reason why these four child- 
ren are called " ostracizers," even to the present day. 

The time for cane-spreeing drew near. Sophs were be- 
ginning to pick their men and lie about their weight, but 
Eighty-three was ready to help the Freshmen. The regular 
occupation of all who had any idea of the spree was two 
hours of muscular development during the day time, and 
three hours of evening practice anywhere between Clio Hall 
and the canal. Gil had dropped back from Eighty-two, and 
in him we had a prize. Well did we remember how he had 
turned us from vegetable green to blue in the preliminary 
of Fresh year; how he and the anti-machine man, Jenny, had 
struggled for the supremacy. And now Gil is just as ener- 
getic in preparing our proteges for the same contest. Nothing 
of moment occurred during the practice. A Freshman 
might dislocate a shoulder, or have a nose broken, but such 
trifling accidents or incidents passed by unnoticed. There 
was one night, however, which will be ever memorable on 
account of the novelty of its proceedings. Gil and Flint 
were training some men behind Whig. They were going it 
strong. Up and down they went, turning and writhing in 



84 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

every possible position. Soon a tall figure emerged from the 
pines in the rear of the Philadelphia!!. He stood and 
watched for a minute, and then started for the scene of the 
conflict. Seizing Gil by the neck of his pants, he pulled and 
tugged, shouting as loudly as possible, " Come away now ! 
come away ! I know who ye are ! Ye are Sophomores 
mangling me Freshmen. Come away, I say. I'll have ye 
all sent from me college ! " At this point he gave a tre- 
mendous tug at Gil, when the latter arose, and, not knowing 
his assailant, caught him about the waist, and landed the 
venerable figure on the ground at his feet. Then seeing his 
blunder, the whole party left the grounds faster than they 
had entered them. The " Sophomores " were not sent from 
" me college." They were undoubtedly known, at least 
" within one or two " of them, but the experience was per- 
haps taken in the "joint dogmatic and deductive " method, 
as a lesson not to participate in the sports of the cane-spree. 
It was shortly after this that Flip was taken sick, and it 
was quite shortly that he was well again. His case had been 
reported according to the new rule, and, as a consequence, 
he was visited by Dr. McCosh. A crowd of fellows had 
assembled in Flip's room, and were indulging in a harmless 
little game of poker. The room was filled with jollity, mirth, 
and smoke. In fact, under the circumstances, it could not 
have been otherwise. Some one happened to look out of 
the window, and saw the caller approaching. Like the oc- 
cupants of a raided dive, the crowd hurriedly gathered their 
tools, and taking all the unnecessary medicine bottles along, 
slipped into another room, while Flip, completely dressed, 
dove under the bed-clothes. Everything would have gone 
well had he been a little more careful in covering himself 
up. He put on a ghastly expression, ruffled up his side- 
whiskers (?), but alas! he forgot all about his shoes. " Mr. 
Duane, are ye quite ill to-day?" Flip faintly, " Yes, Doc- 
tor, I have a severe attack of — of malarial fever." " And 
have ye been able to sit up yet ? " '" No, Doctor, I have not 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 85 

been able to raise my head. I'm so sorrry I missed your 
lecture this morning." " Ye look unwell, Mr. Duane, but 
how comes it that ye have your shoes on?" This was a 
stunner for Flip. His favorite expression, paraphrased into 
the " delight of Hades," was murmured inwardly again and 
again. How in the name of Old Nassau was he to escape ? 
But a happy thought struck him. " Oh, Doctor, my feet are 
as cold as — my feet have been so cold that they have to be 
wrapped in warm cloths inside my shoes." " Hm-m-m " 
was the only answer, as the Doctor left the room. The rest 
of the crowd was shaking with laughter, as the invalid 
meekly slid out, together with his feet, and again the play 
began. 

Flip's was not the only case of Junior year debility. 
Clair Royle was also once placed upon the sick list. 
Whether they suffered from the same affection or not, is 
unknown, but it matters little in describing the present in- 
cident. He had been confined to his room for a few days, 
and was just beginning to feel like himself again. One 
morning he heard a slow, stately tread outside, followed by 
a knock upon his door. Now, Clair had spent a good deal 
of time — time which might have been far more profitably 
spent in anticipation of Mechanics — in acquiring that pecu- 
liar Scottish brogue he had been accustomed to hear in the 
lectures on Psychology. He thought this a good chance to 
practice it. In answering the knock, he therefore brought 
out the " Come away, there !" with the identical accent 
heard at the Fresh reception. The door opened, but as 
Clair was lying on the sofa with his back to the door, he 
did not once notice who his visitor was. " And, Mr. Royle, 
they tell me ye are unwell. Is it so ?" As these words fell 
on Shorty's ears, he at once concluded that he had a rival in 
the Presidential dialect, so he at once put into play all his 
powers of mimicry — " Zis ! and I am unwell to-day, Sur !" 
Just then he turned around, and, to his utter horror, saw Dr. 
McCosh standing by his side ! What in Heaven's name 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF 



was he to do? Shorty stammered and stuttered, and at last 
ground out some sort of an apology — " Yes, but Doctor, I — 
I didn't know who it was. I am somewhat better, but — I 
beg your pardon, I really thought it was the entry servant 
— that is — I — " " Niver mind, niver mind, Mr. Eoyle, I 
know all your tricks. Come now, and how long have ye 
been away from chapel exercises ?" And so the interview 
went on, but the talk was rather one-sided. Shorty had 
very little to say, and what he did say smacked in no wise 
of the dialect, the Scotch brogue, in which he had shown 
his proficiency. He had enough of that to last him a life- 
time, and more than enough for his " psychological con- 
dition." 

In connection with the name of Sinclair, that of Ned 
naturally comes up. Vague rumors were afloat, to the 
effect that he was cultivating a moustache, but they were 
generally discredited, as no evidence appeared to substan- 
tiate them. True, in some of his moments of profound 
thought, one might see him nervously twitching at some- 
thing in the place where it is supposed a moustache ought 
to grow ; but in vain. This is supposed to have been the 
cause of Ned's tragic air. In fits of despair, he used to rush 
to his room, and give vent to his pent-up feelings by pouring 
forth one of Shakespeare's most fiery productions. After 
two months of this strange and despondent action, he saw 
signs of the coming harvest. There was still a hook where- 
on to hang his hope. But Ned was such an incessant talker 
that all the vital force required to raise a beard was con- 
sumed. It came but slowly, and does so still, until now his 
upper-lip has the appearance of a piece of Princeton butter. 
Perhaps I have given too much space to this seemingly 
trifling incident, but it was a serious one, and not for Ned 
alone. For when Hewitt — " don't you know Charley 
Hewitt, what takes bugs to Professor McCloskie?" — went 
West, and stopped at Salt Lake City, Ned's mother asked, 
with much anxiety, about his appearance. " The reason I 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 87 

ask," said she, "is, because Ned is so anxious to raise a 
moustache that he shaves every morning, when at home." 

The big snow of the season had come, and Rocky Hill 
and Kingston were merry with Fred Shann's balky horses 
and jingling bells. Preach still wandered to his farm, near 
Beadin's Brook, half-way between Dogtown and Blawen- 
burgh. No snow could stop him, as long as the old clock 
" ticked " at the livery stable. He started out, one after- 
noon, in a fit of desperation and two feet of snow. All 
went well. "Where the road was impassible, he took the 
fields. Once his horse stumbled in a ditch, and Preach 
thought his last hour had come; but he finally got himself 
out. Through snow-banks, over fences, and across lots, he 
wound his way, until he arrived within half a mile of his 
destination, when, cruel Fate! he could get no farther. 
There he stood and gazed at the well-known house which 
contained his " all in all." It was so near, and yet so far. 
Tantalus never endured such tortures. Here was a whole 
afternoon wasted, besides his horse hire — or its equivalent, 
a part of Shann's book-account — while the shades of night 
were falling unpleasantly fast. Nothing could be done but 
to turn round and retrace his weary steps. His eyes gushed 
forth bitter tears — tears for such awful luck — and these, 
united with the gathering gloom, caused the unhappy youth 
to lose his way. He wandered round a ten-acre field, with 
little progress toward home, for four mortal hours. It was 
about ten o'clock, when a farmer happened to see him in his 
circular ramblings, and set him on his journey home. It is 
unnecessary to say that Preach made up for this lost call by 
doubling the length of his visits for the next week. 

Traveling over to Rocky Hill, we see a joyous party start- 
ing out for " a straw ride." Regardless of numbers, this 
happy crowd was packed in "Bull" Gulick's big sled in com- 
fortably close quarters. At first there was a wrangle as to 
who should have the privilege of occupying the corners. 
Why this was a subject of dispute is unknown, but can per- 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF 'l 



haps be explained by Sam Smith. After this delicate ques- 
tion had been settled, and it had been decided who was to 
carry the elixir of life, the word was given, and away started 
the rejoicing crew for Somerville, some fifteen miles dis- 
tant. The night was chill, but the mercury would have had 
to tumble several degrees below zero before any of that 
festive gang would be left. The journey was enlivened by 
the discordant sonnets poured forth without stint upon the 
unoffending dwellers along the road. 

Nothing of note occurred on the trip — at least nothing 
which wastold to your historian — until the return. The same 
drawing of lots for corner seats was gone through with, and 
the lots fell upon Sam, Preach, Landy, and " the Runt." 
The last mentioned felt as he did at Hightstown a little 
later — he didn't feel his oats. The rest had no need of Joe's 
prayer. In the hush of the solemn night, unbroken save by 
the creak of the runners, while some lay safe in the arms 
of Morpheus, and others safe in some one else's arms, pealed 
forth Joe's voice, clear and loud, — 

" Mooney, mooney, shine on me, 
And make me spooney, spooney." 

His prayer was heard, and the rest of the ride was one of 
exceeding peace and joy for all. 

Chronologically, we must now retrace our steps to the 
foot- ball season. The grounds had been put in good condi- 
tion, and were as level as Tape Bryant's head should have 
been. All that was needed for a prosperous season was to 
have the grounds watered and rolled. Now, Billy Field 
was one of the directors. Up to this time it had always 
been the impression that the Scientifs. were infinitely more 
practical than their Academic brethren, and in consequence 
of this feeling, Billy was chosen as the man to have the work 
done. His chief claim to scientific attainments lay in the 
fact that, a few days previously, he had stood at the black- 
board a full half hour, making havoc with a chalk-box in an 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 89 

attempt to make sixty figures a minute; and when Big Mac 
asked him what he was at, he replied he " didn't know, but 
thought he would ^et it in a minute." Yet, notwithstanding 
all, Billy's figurative ability was never questioned ; and, in 
fact, it proved in the end to be altogether figurative. 

He prepared an elaborate and detailed report, of which 
the following is a copy, verbatim, et literatim, et spellatim : 

" Fellow Directors, I beg leave to submit the followiug report: 

In order that the expense devolving upon the Association may be as 
light as possible, I have personally surveyed the athletic grounds, and 
find that they contain forty-three thousand five hundred and sixty 
feet. The grounds are in such a condition that they will require one 
gallon of water per square foot. The cost of each gallon of water — 
expense all told — I have estimated at one-half cent. The total cost, 
lased on the actual measurements and estimates, would be two hundred 
and seventeen dollars and eighty cents. The idea of watering the grounds 
is therefore impracticable, as the treasurer states he has on hand only 
two hundred dollars. 

Respectfully submitted, 

William Pierson Field." 

Of course this settled the watering question. The idea 
of expending over two hundred dollars in so harmless a 
fluid as water was not to be thought of; but, by a happy 
thought, another director consulted a horny-handed son of 
Erin as to the expense, and the startling answer came, 
" Bedad, oi'll do it fur two dollars and a half, sir!" "All 
right, go ahead and do it then," said the academic director, 
fearing least the Hibernian might repent him of his hastily- 
made bargain. This was too much for Billy. He knew 
that figures didn't lie, and could only conclude that the 
working classes of the country were shamefully underpaid. 

Frequent and useless were the attempts to secure exami- 
nation papers in Junior year. These efforts began on the 
night before examination in physics, during the memorable 
"non vult" Fresh demonstration. The servant-lovers' 
scheme had failed, not that the lover loved the money less, 
but that he loved his loved one more. The Freshmen were 



90 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

put, and ready for anything, it mattered not what. The 
pollers of '83 thought it an excellent opportunity, with the 
aid of the Freshmen, to carry out their project. After the 
different Professors had been visited, and one or two dozen 
street lights broken, they felt they were in proper shape to 
give Professor Brackett an electric shock. The plan was to 
have the Freshmen start the racket, draw the Professor out, 
and then have the Juniors rush in and seeure the paper. 
But, alas ! for human hopes ! the whole thing missed fire. 
The Freshmen fled, and the upper classmen, to avoid detec- 
tion, struck for the canal, followed its banks towards Kings- 
ton, wound their devious way to the " house of the seven 
gables," (red ticket admission,) and got back to town just in 
time for breakfast. Coop was suspected of participation, 
and considered it such an outrage on his character that he 
resolved to leave " indefinitely." The others who were in 
the muss were " Billie, the Western umpire," Robey, ex- 
Secretary of the Riding Club, and Jennison's machine-can- 
didate, who was bounced out of Rocky Hill for winning the 
affections of a widower's Brooklyn visitor. 

Coop's delicate sensitiveness was not at once affected by 
the soft impeachment. It took two months for the Faculty 
to find out that he had convicted himself in pleading " non 
vult" and when they did, they made it uncommonly warm 
for him. At this time he had another chance to show his 
prowess. He played it on handsome Jim Flint in his labor- 
saving scheme. 'Twas the night before logic final, and the 
paper would command any price. But the price weighed 
nothing with the daring adventurers ; it was the hope of 
making a success of what had so many times proved a 
failure. 

About nine o'clock they repaired to Dr. Atwater's resi- 
dence and stationed themselves where they would be invisi- 
ble from within, but where to them everything within was 
visible and audible. The expounder of the " illicit process" 
was absent, so they waited out in the cold until he came home. 
They listened intently, but not a word was said about the 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 91 

coming examination, or the nature or whereabouts of the 
paper. Still, they were treated to a full description of those 
whom he had met at the reception, the different kinds of 
cake, and bits of social gossip — but this would not do. 
Finally, when the inmates had all retired, these two guile- 
less youths decided that the paper must still be at the 
printer's. 

What to do and how to do it, was decided in a moment. 
Coop's ready inventive power here served him well. Away 
to the Second Church they hied, and gaining entrance through 
the rear door, groped their way through the dark and gloomy 
aisles to the gallery, broke a stained-glass window, and 
awaited the devil's development in the printing office. Here 
Flint uttered a half audible yell of joy, for at last, at last, 
they had struck their bonanza ! One by one the papers 
passed through the press — one by one they counted them 
and waited in ecstatic impatience for that printer to go home. 
He arranges at last, when fully through his all-important 
job, all his printed matter, extinguishes the gas, and leaves 
it all to darkness and to them. One more step and the 
prize is won. By means of a stolen ladder, the two mount 
and enter the office, secure two of the longed-for papers, 
get down to terra firma once more, and hide the ladder for 
future use. Chuckling with glee, they hurry to Wither- 
spoon and light the gas to prepare their papers in accord- 
ance with the stolen treasures. But what ! it cannot be 
true! Agaiu they read, and again, and at last with a groan 
they realize that all their labor has been lost on — 



Sanford's Pulmonic Syrup, 

FOR 

Coughs, Colds, and Consumption. 



The festive crowd from Witherspoon had boarded an east- 
bound train, and the immortal Peace was there in all his 



92 HISTORY OF THE GLASS OF '83. 

glory. How many a gentle heart beat faster beneath that 
goggle eye ! How many a tender soul had been raised to 
realms of pure delight by a single glance from him, where a 
smile from Jerry or Joe Seguin would fall like seed upon 
stony ground. But to-day he was destined to fail ingloriously. 
His career, hitherto so brilliant a one, was to-day to be 
vailed in disaster and defeat. Like the transit of Venus it 
came, but unlike that gentle planet, the effects remained 
dark and gloomy on that o'ershadowed soul. The usual 
crowd surrounded Peace, until they had boarded the cars, 
when lo ! that eye met the soft radiance of another optic. 
He shook the gang at once, and seated himself behind two 
of those lovely damsels of whom only New Jersey can boast. 
The rest of the crowd took seats in front, and by the aid of 
a hand-glass, watched the doings of this amorous youth with 
his charmers. He didn't seem to get along well — had to do 
it all himself, without the slightest assistance from his fair 
would-be captive. 

Ever and anon, amid the rattle of the car-wheels and the 
tooting of the engine, would be heard the anxious question, 
" How are you now, Peacey ? " " All right, my dear, she 
can have me," would be the answer. The damsel was still 
cold and distant, but not so Ned. To keep from seeming 
embarrassment, he would fire some passing remark at the 
crowd he considered left at the other end. At length the 
gang waxed merry, and the train re-echoed their stale jokes 
and innocent laughter. "Now," thought Ned, " I'll show 
them a little Latin," and he roared out, " Fellows, if you 
don't keep still, I'll summon a sheriff's posy ! " Every one 
in the car heard it, and greeted it with a shout of laughter. 
The girls buried their faces in their handkerchiefs ; the con- 
ductor had to stop punching tickets to laugh ; the brakeman 
forgot the name of the next station, and oh, unkindest cut 
of all ! his perfidious comrades set up a regular howl. As 
Peace hurried to the smoking-car, the red blood suffused his 
pallid brow, he dropped his cane, and was heard to mur- 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 93 

mur, " Fool ! I might have remembered that I got con- 
ditioned in Latin ! " Flip took up the thread where Ned 
had dropped it and was more successful in his attempt. 

This history would indeed be incomplete without at least 
the mention of a very severe case, and its partial cure. One 
of our number was suffering under a mental derangement. 
To meet with him, to talk to him, to see him in recitation, 
one would never for a moment imagine that he was other 
than in his right mind. Yet the symptoms increased with 
such frequency and violence that his friends began to get 
seriously alarmed. We refer to Rudd. It was curious that 
whenever the distemper seized him, he would begin to pun 
so frightfully as to blanch the cheeks of all within hearing. 
At first, we thought he did it with the idea that he was 
amusing; but Rudd was a kind-hearted and gentlemanly 
fellow, and when entreaty and supplication made him, if 
anything, worse, our only resource — and certainly the most 
charitable — was to refer it to softening or other affection of 
the brain, of which these outbursts were merely symptoms. 
When this was generally known, our feelings toward him 
changed from a mild aversion to a sincere pity. But the 
strain was too much for some. Billy Trainer did not swear 
at him for a whole day, and was so overcome that he had 
to go to New York to recuperate. 

But Rudd went on, from bad to worse. He joined the 
Jolly Friars. The meals were usually passed as follows : 
Rudd comes bursting into a room full of noisy fellows; 
"Say, boys," he cries, "if a bee lights on an icicle, that'll 
make a b-icycle, won't it ?" Laughter ceased ; an oppressive 
silence followed, broken only by a few muttered words from 
Billy Jones, unfit for print. "Please pass me the staff," says 
Rudd. " Say ! Hewitt !" — as Charlie helped himself a 
second time — "you'd better stop. You're pretty badly 
corned now." "Rudd!" exclaimed Perry, "for Heaven's 
sake — " " Say ! come off," retorts Rudd. " By the way," 
says Gill, " I saw some nice puppies to-day." " That 



94 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

reminds me," breaks in Rudd : " Why is a dog with puppies 
like a theological doctrine ? " No one answered, so Rudd 
said: "Because she's a dog-ma; see?" " Waiter," said Ed 
Royle, as soon as he had recovered somewhat, "these beans 
are burnt." " That's just what I've been saying all along," 
says Rudd. " Did you know that Dougal was married ?" 
asked Red Billy. " Gad, I'd like to have seen him propose. 
Wonder how he did it ?" exclaimed Ed Royle. " Easy 
enough," Rudd interposed, " he just said ' do-gall,' and she 
did. Eh ! Waiter, get me another piece of defunct cow, 
silver plate." " Cork up." " Shut up, Three-feet, Back 
Yard." " Another pun, please," said Richie, despairingly. 
" Ton what ?" asked Rudd. 

And so it went. The boys began to grow thin after 
awhile — all except Bert Agnew — and defensive measures be- 
gan to be talked of. At last it was agreed to impose a fine 
of five cents for every pun gotten off at the table. All 
voted for the measure except Rudd. The proceeds were to 
go toward a club set-up. Before the week was out, $3.15 
were in the treasury, from one source ; and in a few days 
more, Rudd was borrowing money from Shorty Royle. The 
lesson was a severe one, and produced a reaction. The af- 
fected cerebral matter began to rearrange itself, and his 
darkened understanding to recover once more its power. It 
was an awful struggle, but Rudd was plucky. Sometimes 
he would lie back in his chair and grasp the table, while 
his features worked convulsively. But the cure was finally 
effected, and now, only the presence of ladies excites him 
^beyond self-control. 

Since Fresh year our nine had been lying back, apparently 
waiting for the home stretch. But before the great and final 
day should come, they determined to make a gallant effort 
in a fray with '82. Eighty-four and five were soon out of 
the race for class championship, and the tug evidently lay 
between the upper-classmen. '82 and '83 had each won the 
same number of games, but it was depressing to the Seniors 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 95 

to reflect that, after gaining the day in their Junior year, 
they must again meet their inferiors — in age. Their con- 
duct was marked by the same confident boldness they had 
displayed three years before. But the blood of Ed Ernst 
was up, and Jim Rafferty's wrath was kindled when they 
reflected on the disgrace of leaving Old Nassau beaten by a 
Freshman nine in their Soph year, and failing to retrieve 
that defeat by a victory in their latter days. We all pitied 
the mortified class, but had no other feeling toward them. 
Being ever exceeding loud as to mouth, they, in the flush of 
rage, challenged our nine to play them at once. 

But our nine had already disbanded for the season, and it 
was decided to wait until Spring, and then give the would- 
be victors a chance at vengeance. Now, when the spring- 
time came, a change had come o'er the spirit of '82's dream, 
a calm after the storm, and they thought it best to let well- 
enough alone. A tie they considered better than a defeat, 
and so showed one of the rare instances of wisdom displayed 
in their college course. 

It is well known that Osborn had a bull pup, whose name 
was Pete. He was an innocent dog — that is, Pete was — 
and had been curtailed, as to his rudder, in early life. Billy 
loved Pete, and Pete loved Billy. Now and then Pete would 
stray into recitation, but as soon as the Professor would an- 
nounce that the animal was in search of congenial company, 
Claude Brodhead would kindly remove him. One day he 
came in to enjoy a little logic, and would not be put out. 
He had heard that dogs were animals — ditto his master — 
and wished to find the logical conclusion from these two 
facts. So, when Claude tried to get him outside the door, 
and Pete heard a whistle and a " Here, Pete ! " from a hun- 
dred fellows, he concluded the majority wanted him to stay. 
So he stayed ; and began trotting about the room in a man- 
ner very satisfactory — to himself and the fellows, but not to 
the Professor. On the latter's brow stood great drops of 
perspiration ; on his cheek glowed the red flush of direful 



96 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

anger. The whistling and calling of the dog continued, 
and so did the dog. When Dennis was summoned to re- 
move the obnoxious quadruped, the way that dog slipped 
from the unhappy Mercury's grasp was marvelous. Round 
and round they went, until at last Pete, in his eccentric 
course, bounded on the platform. "With the precision worthy 
of the logic taught, aim was taken by that august foot, and 
the luckless canine went whirling through space, propelled 
by a No. 14. A sympathetic " Oh ! ! ! " echoed through the 
room, as the class gazed on the fainting form of their late 
companion. Dennis carted out the remains, and never after- 
wards did Pete venture to enter those classic halls — he had 
had enough logic to last him through the rest of his few 
remaining dog days. 

Just after the foot-ball game in New York, the boys in- 
dulged in one of their celebrated rackets. Even Jim Har- 
lan succumbed, and next morning, when Haxall invited him 
over to Hankins' to partake of a little plain soda and am- 
monia, his insulted stomach revolted at the thought. Jim 
Flint and Laurie Riggs sought an early couch at the Park 
Avenue, more from necessity than choice, perchance. In 
the same room Fleming and Tommy Baker had a bed, fold- 
ing up so as to resemble a wardrobe. The city air had no 
effect on them before midnight, but toward morning they 
assisted each other to their mutual chamber. Now, they 
knew perfectly well what manner of couch they were to 
occupy, but now their minds were so beclouded with 
thougts of Albany and Troy, that Tommy thought a joke 
had been played on them, and woke Jim from his feverish 
sleep to ask him where the unseen bed could be. By this 
time Jim was pretty nearly compos mentis, and curtly told 
them to pull down the wardrobe and go to bed. Tommy 
and George thereupon took hold and several times had got 
it nearly down, when, their hold slipping, it would spring 
back again. After repeating this some half dozen times, 
they at last succeeded, as they thought. By this time 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 97 

Tommy was fairly mad, and George says he struck him, but 
Flint says George's foot slipped on an imaginary banana 
skin, and he sat suddenly down to examine the cause of his 
downfall. When they had finally tumbled into bed, oh 
horror ! that miserable wardrobe began slowly to close up ! 
Tommy was scared. George was already buried in pro- 
found sleep, but just then Laurie was awakened by a wild 
cry from Tommy, " George ! George ! wake up ! I've got 
the D. T's. I know I have, for I'm all doubling up !" 
Laurie got up, fastened a spring, and of couse the bed was 
all right. The D. T's had vanished, the downy couch was 
too full for utterance, but Tommy vows the next time he 
puts up in New York he will go to bed early and have 
something that is a bed, and not a pair of scissors. 

It is sad to observe how seldom men will profit by the 
experience of those who have sinned and suffered. Has 
not every one read the story in a Sunday School book of the 
bad little boy who would go fishing on Sunday ? and yet in 
'83 were four bad little boys — who, disregarding that sad 
story and its painful ending, must needs go out — not fishing 
indeed — but boating, on the Sabbath day. Billy Scott was 
one of them, and he ought to have known better. The 
idea of a man of his social standing and intellectual status 
going boating on Sunday ! Much better had he staid in 
College, and read the " Mysteries of London " to Ben 
Bedle. Yet, so he did, and, to add to his wickedness, en- 
ticed Fred Libbey and George Way to go with him. They 
left their valuables in the boat-house, locked the door, 
got into their shell, and disappeared round the bend. 
But just as they were vanishing, D. Percy Morgan ap- 
peared upon the scene, and his eagle eye caught sight of 
the retreating shell. He frowned darkly, pulled his fierce 
moustache, and murmured sadly, " Alas ! and Sunday, too !" 
The rolling waves of the boundless canal flashed back the 
Summer sun, the sighing breeze sang its lullaby amid the 
rustling trees, on the fence rail chirped the robin ; but to 






98 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

all these beauties David was oblivious. On bis noble brow 
rested a sombre cloud of pensive thought. Again, he 
sighed and murmured, "And on Sunday, too!" The 
bridge-keeper's white geese quacked a low lament in their 
yard ; the bridge bull-dog stole softly up behind him and 
took a suspicious smell of the shine upon his polished shoe; 
the bridge-keeper's daughter gazed shyly on him from her 
maiden bower. But in vain ! The massive mind of Mor- 
gan mused on an object now dancing on the billows so far 
away, and a third time he sighed, " Ah, me, on Sunday !" 
But suddenly that shapely brow grew clear, from those soft 
blue eyes flashed a brighter light, on those mobile lips quiv- 
ered a wild resolve, while on every feature was painted 
stern resolve. " They deserve a lesson," cried he, " and I 
— I will give it to them." Quickly he left the bridge and, 
striding firmly with rapid, graceful tread, glided toward 
the boat-house. Like the god-like, swift-footed Achilles, 
quivering in his well-greaved limbs, his heart beating with 
fury within his hairy bosom, he stalks forth, his bright eye 
flashing in lightning wrath — so did the man-slaying Percy 
rush upon the boat-house. The door was locked, but a 
nature like his laughs at locksmiths. A window crashes, 
and with a bound the Englishman is within, the clothes of 
his erring mates are found, and three watches and several 
hundred dollars reward his courage. Once, only, the bold 
youth pauses -in his burglarious endeavor. "Is this right?" 
Then he reflected that he was simply acting for his com- 
rades' good, emerged, and left for College. 

But, the consternation when our friends returned ! Fred 
Libbey pacing the boat-house, wringing his hands, and 
moaning — "Watch, chain, and two hundred dollars, all 
gone ! " The bridge-keeper was interviewed, but could tell 
nothing. His daughter could, but not for worlds would she 
have given that handsome scapegrace away. Drearily they 
plodded toward Princeton, and round them gathered sym- 
pathizing friends. It would never do to tell the Faculty, so 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 99 

a New York detective was telegraphed for, but ere he 
appeared, Percy had returned his ill-gotten spoils, and Billy 
had promised never, no, never, to go boating on Sunday 
again. 

Dan Fell waxed more and more a politician every day of 
his college life. He soon ensnared Jim Flint, and he, too, 
became a canvasser at eveiw election. Dan roomed in the 
Carpenter building throughout his entire course; he knew 
it was inconvenient, but then he had the chance of getting 
on a jury once a week — a clear gain of fifty cents. He so 
aroused the people of Pennsylvania, in a stump-speech, that 
they begged him to leave college and run for the Legisla- 
ture against Gearhardt of '80. But such petty honors his 
mighty soul despised. He aimed at nothing short of the 
U. S. Senate. His eloquence, on Washington's Birthday, 
moved his entire audience to tears — whether from amuse- 
ment or from sympathetic woe, they know best. He was 
ever wise, discreet, judicious, politic. Having taken a prize 
over Jack Hodge, in "Whig Hall, during Freshman year, he 
thought best not to enter again, lest he lose his hard-earned 
fame. The medal, with no tarnish of defeat, still dangles 
from his dainty watch-chain. 

Everything, with Fell, must be done on a legal basis. If 
he bought a second-hand book, an agreement must be drawn 
up, fully setting forth promise and condition. If the seller 
refused to take so much trouble, Dan instantly began on 
the oration he prepared early in Junior year, for Chapel 
Stage, and, before he had gone far, his unhappy hear r 
would do anything, sacrifice anything, to see his back. 

The most remarkable incident of this legal formality 
occurred in regard to a piece of property near the Episcopal 
Church. Jim Flint acted as assistant counsel, and it is from 
his report that these items are gathered. Some one had 
given Dan a piece of tilled soil, up town, as a gift. Most 
of the Class would have been content only with this, and 
nothing more. But the title didn't suit Dan, and besides, 



100 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

he was bound to pay the nominal sum of fifty cents, that it 
might not be called a gift. He insisted on this until at last 
the owner of the property consented. It turned out, after- 
wards, that another man had a lien on the land ; that still 
another had a claim on the shrubbery ; and that the land 
was worn out. 80 he saw his fifty cents recklessly wasted. 
Yet he stuck to his title like a man, and still treasures it 
among his cherished mementoes of Princeton. 

When one happens to room between an instrument of 
music, and another — a vocal one — in the shape of a candi- 
date for J. O., he merits our deepest sympathy. How many 
a temper has been spoiled, how many an unrighteous word 
been uttered, how many an unhallowed prayer been offered 
up by such sufferers ! Take, for instance, the example of 
Billy Field, and his companion Luce. For three mortal 
hours a day before preliminary J. 0., Ed Royle tried to raise 
the ceiling of his room, and after he got an appointment, of 
course it was no better. Billy says he would just be getting 
interested in a math, problem, and have the whole thread in 
his mind, when he would suddenly hear a yell at the top of 
Ed's lungs, "Hold on a half hour longer, and a hero thou 
shalt be ! " "Whether this belonged to his oration or not, 
Billy couldn't say, but he could say that Ed was off his base 
if he thought any human being could " could hold on a half 
hour longer" to his problem amid such an infernal din. 
Clin Day and Richy roomed below them, and when no sound 
of flute, guitar, banjo, fife, violin, or organ was heard issuing 
from their abode, Lucy usually ran down to see if they were 
sick — or dead. Clin's ceiling was replastered every week 
in consequence of the stamping of the masher of Oregon — 
the masher of the ave. 

Then there was Jack Hodge. The instant he began 
spouting about the " fifteenth commandment," the whole 
entry of North Reunion was at once deserted. Charley 
Hewitt was the only man who could stand it, and he only, 
because he had an immense horn, which he snatched forth 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 101 

whenever the row began. Eankin of '82 roomed below 
Hodge. It was an appalling sight to see him on those morn- 
ings after Hodge had been stirring up the South, and 
omitted to shake hands over his fifteenth commandment, as 
he was pleased to call it. It is needless to tell how Crouse 
sent the tin roof of Reunion rattling down, nor how Duff 
was taken ill while listening to Wes Lynde's twenty-octo- 
syllabic worded subject. Keller did no great harm, asLord 
John had his book-store beneath him, and whenever Keller 
began, John would light one of his "Henry Clay's," pur- 
chased in New York, which, of course compensated for the 
nuisance. It is pffirmed by some that Claude Brodhead 
woke Annin up one day in discoursing on the Reformer, 
but this is not well authenticated. Billy Osborn was obliged 
to use his pet bull-dog, Pete, in self-protection. And when 
the final night arrived, hymns of thanksgiving came unbid- 
den from the lips of those afflicted youth. 

How Shelley scooped things — alas ! is it not known too 
well ? His little soul was all afire, he distanced every com- 
petitor, and then sank back to his wonted state of apathy, 
there ever after to remain. It was funny to see Billy. Like 
a proud but Lilliputian rooster, he strutted up to the side of 
Jack Hodge with the question, "How does it make you 
feel, Hodge, to be beaten by a little fellow like myself? 
Say, my chances are pretty good for the Lynde, ain't they ? 
Guess I'll go round and see about getting my grade raised 
for the valedictory. Too bad, Jack ; I'm sorry for you." 
With this he set out on his sacred mission. Jack's heart 
died within him — some say Ned Royle's did too — for he had 
promised a friend that he intended to expend half the Mc- 
Lean prize in a calligraph, and the rest in a beautiful 
medal. So ended the J. 0. Wes Lynde came just in time, 
for had he waited two months the beaming countenance of 
his Trenton mash would forever have blighted his hopes for 
a prize. 



102 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 

About five o'clock in the morning after '84's Soph re- 
ception, one of the most fashionable games of foot-ball ever 
witnessed in Princeton came off. Ned Peace, strange to 
say, had some champagne in his room, and invited a chosen 
few up to sip the sparkling cup, on the strength of their 
safe arrival at the shore of Senior year. Jim Archer was 
very willing to go, as his partner hadn't slipped in the waltz 
and made him say bad words. Trip, too, was agreeable, as 
he had only a few days before freed himself from an awk- 
ward obligation in rather an easy manner. There were 
others beside these roysterers. Tim Rogers shone from 
afar; Craig Colt reposed in the corner, wondering whether 
he were Jew or Gentile, while Joe Seguin, the midnight as- 
sassin, worshipped fair Luna as she sank to repose. It was 
in truth a joyous gang — indeed, it always was, save when 
Henry Alexander made unearthly faces and persisted in 
telling his many ailments and surgical operations. When 
their heads began to increase in size, and the first rays of 
the rising sun shone on them, Ned proposed a game of foot- 
ball as an appropriate ending to the year's hard work. Out 
came the ball, and out came the crowd, clad in their full- 
dress suits, which so short a time before had decked a ball- 
room. In their usual foot-ball suits, the team had often 
been compared to escaped convicts, but on this occasion, 
one would have thought they had just got out of Morris- 
town Asylum. The time was divided into spaces of five 
minutes, and at the end of each space, every fellow smiled 
on " Extra Dry." It was no farce, either in room or field, 
but dead earnest. They fell, they sprawled, they " tackled " 
and " held " just as though wearing simple Jerseys. When 
the game was over, rumpled dress shirts, dilapidated swal- 
low-tails, were a sight for a Christian ! Fit ending for a 
year which had opened with foot-ball and closed with the 
same ! Peace had tried his hand as captain — he was satis- 
fied — and his soul being at peace, he started for Virginia to 
investigate the land of Dixie and Jerry's tobacco statistics. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 103 

Comrades of '83! We have passed our novitiate — we 
have passed our verdant days — let us trust that our relations, 
as we enter on our closing year, may be as pleasant as hereto- 
fore. If there be any here, any dear friend of Nassau, whom 
the Historian hath smitten, speak ! if him I have offended. 
Yet, with Shakespeare, he can truly say, that naught did lie 
"extenuate, nor ought set down in malice," but in the spirit 
of brotherhood he has revealed a few of the incidents of our 
pleasant college life. That the sun of that college life may 
set as gloriously as it arose, is the earnest wish of those who 
now have safely weathered the storms, basked in the sunshine, 
shared in the fun, and amassed the lore, of three-fourths of 
the career of '83. 



104 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF >88. 



%mvax )^mx. 



Grave and haughty, grand and gloomy, 

Deigning now no Fresh to see ; 
Striding lofty o'er the Campus, 

Seniors we of 83 ! 

And now the end draws near. We have entered on our 
final struggle ; in ten months more the place which has known 
us so long shall know us no more forever, and from the 
chorus of weeping damsels, as in the old Greek plays, shall 
rise the threnody, "Ichabod ! Ichabod ! The glory has de- 
parted." The dawn of Senior Year finds us fully capable to 
grapple with the profoundest problem, to engage in the 
most abstruse debate. We realize that we are Seniors in its 
fullest sense. No more do we chuckle with fiendish glee as 
we catch the howling Fresh ; no more the resounding cry of 
right! left! right! left! breaks from our Sophomore lungs 
as the gawky youth shamble by. We are Seniors! The 
gay pursuits of Junior Year give way to the broader duties 
of playing poker, mashing hearts, and preparing for Senior 
finals. To drill the Sophs for onslaught against their meek 
successors, from whose teeth the hay-seed has not yet de- 
parted, becomes a solemn duty. Flint and Jim Harlan enter 
into the task as seriously as they would into a foot-ball game. 
The burden is a heavy one, but they face it like heroes. The 
air reeks with coming storm. But hold ! what figures steal 
forth upon the campus, marring the peaceful beauty of the 
scene. It cannot be ! it is ! Rusty Moore and Alexander- 
Henry had trodden with us the frivolous path of Fresh, 
hood, but after using all the trunks on which he could rest 
his manly form, he flitted to the shades of Columbia, where 
he abode two years. He returns to his first love the same 
melodramatic mooner as when he left her. His sojourn in 
the land of cheap lager has not faded the maiden bloom upon 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 105 

his cheek. Still can he contort and twist and torture those 
classic features into forms of which Dan Rice or G. L. Fox 
would never dream. It is even said that he adopted Billie 
Agnew as a chum, that from his Grecian brow he might fashion 
the Jove-like contour of his own. Henry could entertain a 
select audience by the hour with dumb show of strangely 
comic contortions of his visage — and come up smiling. He 
gently lifted up his voice soon after his arrival and said it 
wasn't his fault that he was born pretty. 

But how shall we describe Rusty? Eye-glasses, and the 
glimmering dawn of a moustache, the color of his name, 
adorned his profile. Also, Soc Murdoch. This fails to do 
him justice — it is too broad. But if your fancy can picture 
him on the night of the Thanksgiving dinner at Dohm's, 
he will flit before your fancy's-eye at pleasure. Often had 
he spoken of the soda-water he had consumed at Columbia, 
with his fellows. He offered to bet Duck Earner that he 
could floor the club. We draw a veil over what followed. 
Walter Green and Proctor became his guardian-angels, and 
to them we must refer our readers. It is difficult to smile, 
with an aching heart. We can only ponder on the muta- 
bility of Seniors, rejoice in their joy, and get out our hand- 
kerchief over their shortcomings. 

It seems that, during the Summer vacation, George 
Howell died. It was generally known that he was in a 
state of semi-decease, at Philadelphia, during the boat race, 
and also at Lake George. Rumor said he killed our chances 
— so did the dailies. But the fact that George had departed 
this life, spread like wild-tire. From Baltimore to White 
Sulphur, and through the pathless West, the cry of woe 
went up. At Ocean Grove, where George's mashing had 
been chiefly done, where he counted heaps of slain, it fell 
like a thunderbolt. His victims wept sore, and refused to 
be comforted. Up the beach would wander a man of 
Eighty-three, arm-in-arm with a man of another year, and 
would ever and anon wail forth, "George Howell is dead!" 



106 HISTORY OF THE GLASS OF '83. 

His friend would fall, gasping, on the Jersey beach. The 
billows of the Atlantic sang back the mournful ditty — 
"Howell is dead." Like a Greek chorus rang the mourn- 
ful cry, "Alas! alas ! for Howell ! " Billie Taylor, the deaf- 
mute, ran into George's brother, at Newark. He had heard 
the mournful news, and ambling up to the dead man's kins- 
man, he moaned : " Did he have much pain ? " " Who ? " 
growled the bereaved one. The game ear of Billie rested 
upon him, and he heard him not. " Did George have much 
pain ? Did he die calmly, and an easy death ? ." " Well, I 
don't know. He's down at the house, and if you would go 
down and ask him how he died, he might tell you." Billie 
bid him good-bye, and skipped. When we returned we 
could talk of nothing else. Jack Hodge and Flip Duane 
figured out the conundrum. They sagely concluded that 
George had worried himself into heart-disease, and this, 
aggravated by a case of " left," had shuffled off his mortal 
coil. The class was about drafting a set of resolutions, 
when lo ! the dead man beamed on their astonished gaze, 
and scattered their sorrow like morning mist. It is one of 
the mysteries of college life where the rumor first arose. 
But it kept traveling until the middle of September. Alas! 
poor George ! I knew him well. A fellow of infinite jest, 
Horatio. Peace to his manes. 

The crew had hard luck at Philadelphia. After the race 
Jenny vowed he was as sick as any of the four, and being 
Captain, he naturally pleased himself. Result — the brandy 
procured for Howell was absorbed by the head of the crew. 
The city dailies reported that Jenney got mad at some un- 
known cause, put on his store clothes at the dead of night, 
and announced his fixed intention of returning home. But 
benevolent Sam Lloyd prevailed on him to stay yet a little 
longer. 

As soon as Lake George was reached, the fellows began at 
once to train on old ale and mashes. Howell went down 
before the sparkling eyes of a Mrs. St. John, whose husband 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 107 

was somewhat of an Othello. George, however, won his 
way in a measure to the heart of his wedded Dulcinea, 
whenever he thought the spouse enwrapped in thought. 
But, alas ! for Howell! One day they were having a good 
Platonic time, when — enter husband. The circus which en- 
sued made the mighty heart of Here throb within him. He 
was not projected as he should have been — he was not 
hurled down the front steps, but something occurred which, 
for a time, utterly destroyed the steady nerve of one-tourth 
of our crew. Then again, Ned Peace thought he had a 
soft thing on a married Desdemona. But — I shudder as I 
tell it — her name was Buckskin, and she loved not the sigh- 
ing Edward. Ever and anon a beaming smile would flit 
athwart her angel face, but quickly vanished. He could 
never tell how he stood, till one day at dinner, when he 
thought he was gaining ground at last, there floated to his 
despairing ear a few words which saved him from further 
doubts and fears. Quoth his beloved to her better half: 
" Who on earth is that fat creature forever staring at me ? 
He thinks he is too utterly smart." These words dropped 
into the ears of listening Ned with the chilling weight of 
Prof. Schanck's " What is it ?" and effectually cured him — 
for the time. 

THE RACE. 

Perry had footed it up to Lake George, starting from the 
geographical centre of New Jersey. The fact that he had 
been taken for a tramp, and flred out from a gentleman's 
house on his way, was not calculated to put him in an an- 
gelic frame of mind ; in fact, he was mad. Therefore, when 
he upset the boat while towing it up the lake and so spoilt 
our chances for the race, we did not marvel. Yet, until 
within a quarter of a mile of the goal, we held our own. 
But when Tommy's shoes slipped out of the straps, by rea- 
son of the water in the boat, and we slowly drifted astern, 
Princeton had to content herself with a good third. In 
order not to spoil his record, Howell fainted at the finish. 



108 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

"lis darkly hinted as the cause that he beheld Mrs. St. John 
upon the bank. Whatever the cause, the fact was there, — 
he collapsed. 

Many a thrilling story might be told of their doings at 
Lake George, but space forbids. How the Ft. Wm. Henry 
House was visited, the shoes abstracted from the chamber 
doors, and, together with the parlor furniture, gently laid to 
rest within the fountain ; how Tommy made his virgin 
speech — " Gentlemen, I am too full for utterance ; " how 
the Bengal Fusiliers made night hideous with the long 
cheer; how Baker smote the bartender of a temperance 
house for giving him ginger ale. Such incidents only ten- 
dered to enliven and awake our sojourn there. The night 
on which the prizes were awarded, Tommy, Peace and Bird 
arriving at the hotel, found it crowded. The only three 
vacant seats were reserved for the referee and managers. 
Entering, the three of orange and black stalked between 
the long lines of damsels and swains, and cooly seated them- 
selves on the reserved chairs. And they kept them, think- 
ing themselves worthy, while the judges stood. All being 
over, Ned rising, and seconded by Bird, proposed three 
cheers for Penna., but only beauty's titter rewarded him, 
and he subsided. So ended Lake George, and better luck 
next time. 

Now, Tommy Wanamaker and Jim Harlan had not, dur- 
ing three by-gone years, ever been counted as extremists in 
the way of polling, but had always taken snaps when they 
could get them. They, with others of their ilk, had vexed 
the soul of our nearly forgotten Billy Tute when Fresh ; 
when Sophs, they had striven in vain to win one expectora- 
tion from the lips of the Grecian minister ; in the pleasant 
days of Junior they had caused science and religion to groan 
aloud. But when the Senior toga fell upon their shoulders, 
a sudden change came o'er the spirit of their dream. It 
didn't come until after they had chosen their soft electives, 
but it came — sudden as a Summer shower. As is well known, 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 109 

Dr. Libbey was the regular statistical lecturer on aqueous 
salinity and tidal encroachments. In addition to this regular 
work, he had an optional course in Histology, which was 
taken by Wardy — a result of Asbury Park — Hoskins and a 
few others. During the early part of the session, the Pro- 
fessor gave a reception, to which Jim and Tommy were in- 
vited. Now, Jim thought he would be talked to death with 
questions about the Scientific Expedition, and Tommy didn't 
want to go; he thought a Senior ought to put a stop to the 
reckless extravagance of by-gone days. They therefore re- 
mained at home, hearkening to the soothing tones of the 
Seguinian lute. A few evenings later, the two were cross- 
ing the Campus, soon after the arrival of the seven o'clock 
mail, when Bob Shanklin gently whispered to them that the 
Prof, had left town on the 5:15, and it would be a good time 
for them to call. Jim had been playing foot-ball and Tommy 
had been practicing at cricket. Neither had changed his 
clothes, neither had laved the sacred soil of Princeton from 
his grimy hands. It mattered not; the Prof, was away; 
they would leave their cards, and so lift a preying burden 
from their souls. 

They started, their steps bent toward the domicile of their 
revered preceptor, rejoicing in their good fortune. They 
stride up the steps; they half pull the bell-handle off; with 
jaunty air they await the coming of the Hibernian maid. 
Her No. 8 echoes toward them through the hall. Before 
the door was fairly open, Jim sings out, " Is the Doctor — " 
but oh horror ! his hair rose on end, his voice clove to his 
jaws — it was the Doctor himself! He cordially greeted the 
unwashed twain. " Good mor — I mean — evening, sir," 
stammers Tommy. The befogged Jim blunders out, " I 
thought — a — you had gone away, Doctor, but — " " Not at 
all," was the quiet answer. " Well, sir, we came to see 
you about, about, the — a — the — " and here the unhappy 
Thomas broke down, and wildly sought to perforate the ribs 
of his fellow-culprit to make him finish for him. The 



110 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '55. 

kindly Doctor asked them in, but Jim told him they had an 
engagement at eight with Dr. McCosh. But an idea struck 
him hard — and out it came. " What we came about, Doc- 
tor, is your course in Histolography, in which Mr. Wana- 
maker and myself are much interested." " You refer, per- 
haps," said the Professor, much elated, " to my course in 
Histology ?" " Yes, sir," replied Jim ; " my Western trip 
created in me a deep interest in such studies." Of course, 
after that, they were booked as optional histological stu- 
dents ; they were assigned their hours for laboratory work, 
and ruefully departed. Tommy wildly tore his locks, while 
Jim tugged at his. Shanklin was fervently consigned to 
Dante's seventh circle below the nethermost depth of 
Hades. " Beast ! Liar !" growled Jim, " I disown him ! 
He is no more cousin of mine ! Unworthy wretch ! If the 
Tiger were not coming out next week, I would grind to 
powder the — " but the persuasive tones and honeyed words of 
Tommy poured oil upon that wrathful Kentucky soul. And 
now that unlucky couple may be seen issuing from the 
hated Histological room, blood in their eye, and murmured 
anathemas on their lips. And they sigh as they think there 
is no rest for the wicked. We can only trust their anxiety 
for that branch may meet with a rich fruition. 

At nine o'clock every Monday the Senior class went in 
for an hour to our revered President to receive instruction 
on Doctrine. '83 has always been noted for doing just 
about what she chose during recitation, and this hour was 
no exception. During the course of the lecture, college 
topics were the chief subjects of conversation ; and con- 
sequently, near the close of each hour, when the Doctor an- 
nounced that " I will now hold a brief exaxamination," 
eager eyes were strained toward the board where the main 
points were written down. 

"H — m, Mr. — Mr. — eh — Antrim will now recite. And 
Mr. Antrim, whv was the tower of Babel built ?" 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. Ill 

" Oh, why, it was built, sir, to — to — it was built for the 
purpose of — to — built for (aside) what the deuce ivas it built 
for? — Why, oh, yes, to get out of the way of the flood, sir." 

" H — m — that will do sir, Mr. Antrim, you have not been 
attending. Sit down sir. Mr. — Mr. Doo — Duane will now 
recite." 

And so it went. Those sitting in front of the board tore, 
and those out of the line of vision flunked. Sometimes 
" Jimmy " helped us out. For instance : 

" And, Mr. Harsha, what is my next point ?" 

Harsha, vainly striving to see through Jimmy to the 
board, " Why, eh—" 

" And that's right, only speak a little louder. It's con — 
con — " 

" Oh, yes, sir. Con — eh — " 

" That's it, con — conse — se — consecra — " 

"Shun." 

" That's right, consecration. And a sinner must first be 
con — con — ?" 

" Yes, sir, con — eh — " 

" That's it, convict—" 

"Ed." 

" Convicted, yes, sir. Sit down. Mr. Wanamaker, in 
what way is prayer efficient to — Come I will not have it. 
That gentleman there making that unseemly noise. Oh, I 
know you, you there, there, on the second row. I will send 
you from the room. I know you within one or two of you 
— the efficiency of prayer, Mr. Wanamaker, what is it?" 

" Why to—" 

"Yes, yes; that's it, to — You there. You reading that 
paper. I know you. I know who you are. What's your 
name, sir? Leave the room, sir, and come to me at the 
close of the hour. Very good, Mr. Wanamaker, you may 
sit down." 

This weekly exercise, after a time, became quite popular. 
After the lassitude and weariness of Sunday, it afforded an 



112 HISTORY OF THE GLASS OF '83. 

excitement that was really refreshing. As long as we re- 
member Senior year we will remember Jimmy's Bible hour; 
and as long as Jimmy remembers '83 he will remember 
Johnny Smyser. 

The sun of Thanksgiving Day arose. Some time before, 
however, our buoyant hopes had met with a rude, rude 
shock. If ever against all doubt a question was settled, it 
was that we were to have the foot-ball championship. 
Every detail was fixed, and only three more games were re- 
quired to blazon forth our victory to an admiring world. 
First, Columbia was to be buried at Queenston; then Har- 
vard defeated on their own soil, and, as a crowning glory, 
the soil of the land of Polo was to reek with the gore of 
Yale, while the mighty roar of Princeton's triumphant tiger 
startled the land and the inhabitants thereof. Oh, it was 
all cut and dried. 

Well, Columbia met her fate. But — Harvard, did you 
say ? Pshaw ! a few hard tackles of Peace's, one of Mor- 
gan's long runs, one mighty kick by Harlan, half a dozen 
goals won by Jerry's place kicks, — and orange and black 
flouts the air of Lexington and Bunker Hill. But, alas ! 
for human hopes ! A flag did go up, but it was crimson, 
and of all the sickly crowds that ever sneaked back to 
Princeton, ours was the sickest. We could only retrieve 
the stain upon our colors by utterly obliterating Yale, at 
New York, on Thanksgiving Day, and then returning 
thanks, in college fashion, in the evening. Ah, Dies Gra- 
tiarum of '82 ! We can forget thee ne'er, A day of woe 
and care, How chill thy biting air, What fruits thy memo- 
ries bear ! 

On the towers and roofs of Gotham, the snow lay glitter- 
ing to the sun. At noon, from the " Fifth Avenue " up, 
the streets were alive with coaches bedecked with the colors 
of the different Colleges, while Rome fairly howled with a 
dozen different cheers, each more discordant than its fellow. 
Stevens Institute cheered Yale when the blue was rushing 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 113 

things, but if the tables turned, then Stevens turned with 
them. 

How many a memory lingers still around those Polo 
Grounds ; how many a bitter thought holds fast that chill 
November day ! The ancient vehicle which was graced by 
the Jolly Friars, together with HaxalPs kick, is enough to 
be one long source of wonder and amazement. But if you 
would have your soul lifted to loftiest heights, gaze on yon 
Windsor coach, all aglow with the beaming visages of the 
" Pumpkin Pirates." Yet the happy occupants saw nothing 
strange, in fact they didn't see much of anything. Yes, 
Buck Antrim thought he saw a Yale Freshman who was a 
trifle too joyous, and decided to mount their coach and all 
its occupants. It so happened that a descending current of 
air came from the Pirate coach, which, of course, settled 
Buck, and, rising, he gave three cheers for everybody, no 
matter whom. Then there was Hunt St. John, " with you 
until death," which came as speedily to him as it did to 
Whitlock. But the referee took care of us, as Sam Smith 
afterwards remarked. A slight cloud arose once 'twixt 
Saint and Conner, the bugler, but 'twas but a passing one, 
though indicative of the tempest raging in every Princeton 
breast. Landy Green had about forty friends on the coach 
at different times — friends whom he had never seen before, 
but whom he took for Columbia men. Larkin of '86 was 
accidentally thrown from the coach into a pile of snow, but 
this disturbed the soul of no man. It was in truth a jovial 
crowd, and at night waxed merrier still. 'Twas then that 
Saint and Whitty retired so early ; that Lord John paid Jim 
Cornell three dollars and a half to keep still; then, too, An- 
trim met his " best friend," and Jack Hodge refused to be 
comforted because he came to market too late, and found 
that the door was shut; that Joe Seguin apostrophized and 
deified the glowing fire; and that Duck Earner thought it 
his duty to lend all assistance to an erring brother — the blind 
leading the blind. So sank the day at last to rest. Our 



114 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 

fellows had been laid out on the Polo Grounds by Yale, and 
many thought it unwise to mar the unity of the programme. 
For us, no more the ringing cheer : no more should we, as 
undergraduates, enliven the glad Thanksgiving Day. We 
had caught the golden opportunity — and it will never be for- 
gotten. We came, we saw, we didn't conquer. Robbed of 
our foot-ball triumph, we were as exiles — exiles from hope, 
exiles from the foot-ball championship arena, and, saddest of 
all, exiles forever from the Empire. 

But let us retrace our steps to the close of the Harvard 
game, and saunter slowly toward the old cemetery on 
Witherspoon street. But hist ! What sight meets our as- 
tounded gaze? It is the hour when church-yards yawn, 
when spirits walk, when sheeted dead display their phantom 
forms. Around the lonely monuments of half-forgotten 
dead rests the heavy pall of midnight and of silence. And 
save the hoot of some complaining owl, and the ecstatic yells 
of a revival meeting at the Colored church, silence reigns 
supreme. Lo ! there at the foot of yonder marble slab, which 
marks the resting-place of all that was mortal of Aaron 
Burr, kneels a shadowy figure, indistinct in the gloom, cry- 
ing aloud, calling, pleading to the highest honor-man of 
Nassau's gray old walls, praying that on him may descend 
a double portion of that long-departed spirit to guide him 
safely through the more than dubious examinations yet to 
come. But for the earnest tones, the deep Louisiana voice, 
the Herculean proportions of him who pleaded so, the strange 
scene would have wakened laughter in the soul of those who 
heard, rather than have called forth their divinest pity. A 
whole hour that plea for help shuddered on the air, but ah, 
no answer came, and at last, utterly worn out, the devotee 
sank down in disappointment sore. Who was he ? And 
echo answers — who ? 'Tis a mystery, an enigma, a problem, 
to be solved only by the solitary, agonized actor in that mid- 
night drama, some soul-stricken man of '83, his spirit rent 
by the awful news from Cambridge. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 115 

Just about the end of second term, the fellows began to 
get business situations, and leave. Clin Day, as treasurer 
of the Senior Glee Club, had received in all a handsome 
sum, so he left, in April, to enter the carriage business. He 
said that Richie's musical soul was of too lofty a pitch to 
suffer two to occupy the same room. George Fleming, too, 
found an occupation more lucrative than polling, so he 
didn't stay to take in the Western tour of the Glee Club. 
In Junior year, George had become badly embarrassed — 
not financially, for that was chronic — while on the tour. 
He was at a reception, when suddenly his charmer broke 
out thus : " Oh, Mr. Fleming, I do so love blondes ! You 
are a blonde, are you not ? " This floored the unhappy 
youth ; with furious blushes he stammered forth that if she 
would excuse him a moment, he would introduce Tommy 
Baker to her, whom he felt certain she would admire. 
Georere had a few words with Bob Shanklin as to which 
had carried off the palm as handsomest man, and this little 
tiff, added to George's previous embarrassment, induced 
him not to revisit the classic shades of Princeton during 
third term of Senior year. 

And there was Proctor; a little absent-miaded, but that 
was a bagatelle. He forgot to set his alarm one nigl.t, and, 
waking too late for Chapel, thought he would make things 
satisfactory — to himself at least — by retiring once more and 
setting his alarm for eight o'clock. He did so, and was 
roused from his dreams at noon. 

He went gunning one day, and when he reached the 
canal, suddenly remembered his gun. He stalks back to 
East College, muttering unseemly words, but when he at 
last reaches his door, behold, his gun is upon his shoulder ! 

But it was at Trenton that Proc. met with his most 
memorable adventure. He and Bob McKnight went down 
one Saturday on business. Now, as we all know, Proc. was 
ever a quiet, unassuming youth, one whom none would 
ever suspect of the wicked habit of mashing. Yet Smike 



116 HISTORY OF THE GLASS OF '83. 

thought he noticed it when they had taken their seats in a 
Trenton bob-tailed car. Proc. was seated next a fair student 
of the Model School, and ever and anon his eyes would roll 
suspiciously. Bob quietly rebuked him, but in vain. At 
last Proc. could stand it no longer ; he leaned over to Bob 
and said in plaintive tones " What shall I do ? She is kick- 
ing me under the seat," and with these words he dashed 
madly from the car, vowing he could endure it no longer. 
Shortly after this, he left College. Dame Rumor has it that 
he afterward met his kicker, and found her really not so bad 
after all. 

Richie is one of those mortals cast of a more delicate 
clay than common humanity. He is an artist, and a mem- 
ber of the Sketch Club; a musician, and a member of the 
Senior Glee Club. He delights in the artistic and poetic, 
and his soul floats heavenward under the ecstatic influence 
of divine music. Anything odd appeals at once to his 
aesthetic sense. He will laugh musically at a hop-toad, and 
caressingly address a June-bug as " you snide." He dotes on 
flowers, especially wild flowers, and will sit and look at a 
violet and eat candy all day — except when he is at dinner or 
playing tennis. 

The arbutus season came and Richie must have some. 
"Why, he could hardly live without arbutus ; he must have it 
at once. So he and Billy Jones started out one day for the 
" Sand-hills." They hired a rig of Shann, a splendid rig, one 
of the sort that Shann only can provide ; and drove rapidly 
off. The destination was reached and the arbutus was gath- 
ered. Coming back Richie wanted to drive. So, Billy, good 
naturedly, relinquished the reins. Richie whipped up the 
horse until the ancient buggy rattled uncomfortably. Billy 
expostulated, but Richie said it was fun, and laughed loudly 
to see the old nag switch her tail, said he wished he could 
sketch her, and then declared two or three times that it was 
rare fun. 

" Look out !" said Billy. 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 117 

But Richie said there was no danger, and Richie, as is 
well known, is always right. All would have been well if 
that big stone had not been there ; but, unfortunately, there 
the big stone was. The buggy struck it, the tire broke, the 
horse plunged, the breeching slipped, the shaft-nut came 
off, Richie and Billy both shouted. Then a mingling mass 
of chips, bolts, spokes, horse, straps, Jones, cushions and 
Richie came to the ground, all at once, and in a heap ; and 
Richie has not been for arbutus since. 

It happens now and then that, from a humdrum and com- 
mon-place life, a man will all of a sudden start, as it were, 
to his feet and astonish the world. Every once in a while 
we hear of some such occurrence. It would be strange, in- 
deed, if an example were not to be found among the mis- 
cellaneous assortment of character in such a body as our 
class. 

Billy Jones, gentle Billy Jones, alias " Reddy," " Tough," 
" Rope," " Texas Bill," etc., had always lived a quiet, re- 
tired life among us, treading on no one's toes, and getting 
into nobody's way, polling, playing the guitar, and holding 
chemical and physical discussions with handsome Charlie 
Hewitt. No one ever saw in his modest bearing the germs 
of the future great orator and reformer. 

It is interesting to trace the origin and progress of his 
rising genius. When Billy first entered the class, he had 
no whiskers. This is worthy of note because, as is gener- 
ally known, his whiskers and his intellectual achievements 
dawned together, and together attained maturity. Whig 
Hall was the scene of his earliest effort and his earliest suc- 
cess. Here he took a prize for speaking. This was but the 
forecast of his future eminence. 

" Every life must have its aim " said Billy. And what was 
Billy's aim ? The advancement of Texas. " Boys," he would 
say, with a double inflection and a Raymond gesture, " Boys, 
you don't know what a country Texas is. Why, I tell you 
it's immense. You can raise the most elegant crops there. 



118 HISTORY OF THE GLASS OF '83. 

Why, it's fine, fine. I go down on our place nearly every 
Summer. "We have a little place there, you know — three or 
four thousand acres or so, I don't know just how much." 
And this was Billy's great subject, and his great object was 
to induce settlement and speculation there. " Now, Percy," 
he said one day to the Dude, " if you have any money you 
want to invest at enormous profits, I can put you up to an 
elegant scheme. Just you buy some Texas land. It's fine. 
I guess I could sell you a little — just for friendship's sake, 
you know." 

Billy is going to settle in Texas after he get3 his dip., and 
take care of " the place." He thought at one time of estab- 
lishing a school there. He wanted Charlie Hewitt to accept 
the chair of Natural History. It is rumored that Updike 
secretly applied for the position of matron in the girls de- 
partment. In Senior year, our friend was made Washing- 
ton's Birthday orator ; and it is generally understood that 
he won his position as advocate of the memory of the im- 
mortal Washington, by his known ability as advocate of the 
claims of Texas. 

Billy will succeed. He has all the elements of a great 
man. He is handsome, devoted to his cause, liberal in his 
views, and careful of his money. Why, it is only reasonable 
to suppose that a man who would sell Clin Day a broken 
pistol, and pocket the $2 without a word, is going to suc- 
ceed in this world. Then, too, at the Brown game he told 
Smyser that he was waiting till the game was half over, so 
he could go into the grand stand for half price. Don't fear. 
Billy will get along in the world. 

What thoughts arise at the very mention of the name — 
T. Ross Paden ! His character is hard to penetrate. In 
Fresh year it was thought that he would sweep such men 
as Landis and Durell from the deck, and take unto himself 
all the honors of our sojourn in Princeton. Gradually, how- 
ever, these wild thoughts were dissipated, when he became 
captivated by a maiden from Stony Brook. He loved her 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 119 

well, but not wisely ; for so changed has he become that 
now he can go for a month without gazing at a book, and 
can stand before a professor with perfect ease, and utter his 
" not prepared." The real character of Ross, however, was 
discovered when he visited a Trenton clothing house. The 
proprietor was one of those strange personages, so similar 
to Lord John, who can make an ulster satisfy one who wants 
a frock coat. Paden beat the man down to ten dollars for a 
suit of clothes, and then returned to his duties, filled with 
glee. But when he was told that the vest didn't fit, he at 
once hastened back to have it changed. Now, thought 
Ross, I will make my fare by doubling up the vests. Well, 
he did double them up by putting one over the other, and 
no sooner had he reached the door than the owner of the 
establishment doubled up on him. Ross gently removed 
the upper vest, and laying it on the counter he hied him to 
the philosophical room of James, there to flunk as usual. 

During the first three years of Harry Towle's college life, 
nothing had occurred to mar the tranquility of his course. 
He was always seen &t Chapel; he was never absent from 
Bible exercises, and never cut a recitation. In fact, he, like 
cheerful Garmany or Joe Brattan, was a model youth, with- 
out a single thought of guile. In the beginning of Senior 
year a change was noticed on his countenance. He had 
that strange look, characteristic of Wardy or Harsha, after 
the tour of the Senior Glee Club, and it was no hard mat- 
ter to see that Hen was in love. Who was it ? The widow ? 
Oh, no ! the widow's charms had vanished. Go ask the 
heights of East Brunswick; wander through the shady 
avenue of Adelaide on any Saturday evening, and the 
whispering breezes will reveal it all. As the sun casts its 
last rays across the Raritan, the truth flashes through the 
wondering mind — Hen is in love ! He confesses it himself, 
and declares that the Nassau Herald has one too few among 
those happily engaged. May his life be a happy one, spent 
near the " Retreat " on the river's bank. 



120 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

As we near the end of our college days, the world is 
astonished to hear that the Princeton crew has won a race. 
For ten years the smile of Fortune had been invisible ; for 
ten Summers, hope had been followed by defeat, until a vic- 
tory on the water was thought ag near an impossibility as is 
the endeavor to issue a set of notes to harmonize with all 
the eccentric views in accordance with Com motive Goodness 
and Regulative Eighteousness. The simile here is involved, 
but the class will see that it is unavoidable, as Victor would 
say, on ethical principles. To return to the Crew, the first 
thing to be stated is, that Howell broke his record. No 
Mrs. St. John was on the Harlem to disturb the action of 
his heart, and, consequently, he pulled through to the end. 
Two races won on the same day ! It seems like a dream, 
and yet it is true. Columbia, Albany, — all left behind ! 
Jennison, Baker, Howell, Bird! Let their names ever be 
cherished as the four who have redeemed our sport on the 
water, and have shown that in Eighty-three there lies 
material worthy of Princeton. 

Where did it come from ? When did it first spring into 
life? These are questions which an inquiring world is 
anxiously asking. It's beginning is shrouded in mystery, 
as, indeed, are the beginnings of all great movements. But 
wherever, whenever, or however it originated, the Senior 
Glee Club is to-day an actual living fact, as any one in 
Princeton can testify. The first intimation to the college 
at large of the existence of such an organization was the 
soft and soul-stirring strains which from time to time crept 
forth from Richie's window. Later on, as the songsters 
grew more courageous, Fred Rutan went to Bob Shanklin 
and asked for the use of the College Glee Club room. This 
modest request being granted, the new club made free use 
of the room, piano and books. Was this gaily ? Verily, in 
comparison with some other things of which your historian 
might speak, it savored not at all of cheek. The club con- 
sisted of Richie, Frank Hoskins, Fred Rutan, Ad. Ward, 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '88. 121 

Bob Yard, Ed. Royle, Harsh and Shorty Royle. Fred Rutan 
was leader, nominally ; but in actual fact every member ot 
the club occupied that position at once. Fred beat time 
during concerts, and that alone distinguished his position 
from that of the others. Practice meetings were frequently 
held. On these occasions Richie presided at the piano and 
shouted vociferously and constantly for " more expression." 
To tell the truth, more talking than singing was always done. 
Comments and suggestions from all hands at once gave the 
meeting the character of a sewing society; while Harsh's 
and Claire's quotations from Harrigan & Hart, with actions 
expressive of the sentiment, added a sort of classical flavor. 
Above all, and through all, a sweet Scotch voice, a sort of 
honey tenor, continually piped forth such words as, "ex- 
pression," "tone," " etfect," etc. About once a month, 
some one would get disgusted and resign, only to come round 
next morning and join again. 

The College Glee Club went on a tour : Why shouldn't 
the Senior Glee Club? No sooner said than done. Clin 
Day was immediately elected Business Manager; engage- 
ments were arranged and tickets and posters struck ofi. 
We have hinted that the Club possessed a certain quality, 
known in common parlance as " neck." Indeed, this was 
their prominent characteristic, their presiding genius, and 
carried them through many a dark valley and over many a 
stony path. Why, these rash youths ventured as far into 
the enemy's country as Stratford, eleven miles from New 
Haven. They arranged a concert there and carried it suc- 
cessfully through, in the face of a Yale audience, by virtue 
of pure concentrated nerve. Indeed, before they left, every 
girl in town was sporting the orange and black. 

This was the place where the eminent qualities of the 
Business Manager showed to the best advantage. They 
went swimming — these young Apollos. At the river's side 
the Business Manager disrobed first and entered the water. 
Then the rest decided to take a boat — no matter whose — 



122 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 

and cross to the flats. The Business Manager thought it 
hardly worth while to array himself, so he took his seat as 
he was. The flats were reached, a fine swim was had, and 
the party returned in the same manner. As they approached 
the shore, a yacht sailed up containing a gentleman and two 
ladies. The Business Manager at once dropped into the 
water, and as soon as the shore was reached hastened to his 
clothes. Meanwhile the yacht drew near, and the skipper 
reproached the boys for taking his boat. The old man was 
deaf, and fifty yards from the shore. The ladies were desir- 
ous to move on, but the old gentleman was determined to 
know about that boat. Claire and Harsha roared to him 
from the shore, and endeavored to explain. The ladies 
urged him to go on, and, when unsuccessful, turned their 
backs to the shore and gazed across the water. And why? 
Simply because half way up the beach the Business Man- 
ager was frantically wrestling with an unruly shirt which 
had stuck half way and would go neither on nor off. The 
whole formed a pleasant and invigorating picture. That 
evening, at the reception, when Clin was introduced to two 
young ladies, he blushed for the first time in his history — a 
lovely blush, that mounted clear up to the roots of his side- 
boards. After the tour the Business Manager declared a 
dividend of $3.97. 

That vacation the club spent on the shore, paying their 
bills by means of concert receipts. One week was spent in 
Asbury Park. They all boarded together. Here it was 
that Richie first learned the art of flirtation. Richie was 
always a good boy, and used to vehemently declare that 
flirting " wasn't nice." But human nature is weak. Napo- 
leon succumbed to Wellington, and Richie gave way before 
the wiles of a little French girl. Frequently since, he has 
been heard to declare that he don't believe in studying 
French under a foreigner ; he likes a native. Richie grew 
sentimental, too. He used to wander by the hour upon the 
beach and gaze at the moon. But the subtle influence of 



HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF '83. 123 

the moon upon the waters affected more than one. Levi 
Rutan lost his senses. He met a young lady, went and 
called upon her, and the family could not get rid of him. 
Hints were of no avail, and despite everything, Fred stayed 
to dinner. On his return he remarked, " Nice girl, isn't 
she ? But, goodness, what grub !" And yet, there was still 
another victim to Luna's power. Alas ! for humanity ! To 
think that the subdued and dignified captain of '83's ball 
nine should thus fall ! Let it go down to posterity as a sad 
monument to human weakness, that Harsha recited " The 
Maniac " on the beach, by moonlight, to a company of — 
one. But time and space would fail us to tell of all their 
adventures, haps and mishaps. A number of us remem- 
ber the concert at Stony Brook, when George Howell was 
surprised by the unexpected appearance of a light, and when 
" Eyes down " became a proverb. When the Trenton con- 
cert was first talked of, some one suggested that Jerry Hax- 
all be asked to accompany the club. 

" What for ? " demanded Richie. 

" Why, for first tenor, of course." 

" One first tenor's enough," Richie replied. 

"Well, you can sing second tenor." 

" Pooh !" was the answer, " we can make a dog-gone sight 
bigger tear with me than with Jerry." 

Richie tried to explain this away afterward, but it 
wouldn't do. 

As all our other college ties are now severed, so also is 
the S. S. S. come to an untimely end. The last songs are 
sung and the last receipts pocketed. Requiescat in pace. 

Class-mates, my work is done. How well or how ill the 
story of four years is told, is for you to decide. Four years 
of constant companionship have knit about us the bonds of 
a brotherhood which the fast succeeding months have but 
served to draw closer. Together we have borne the heat 
and burden of the day, on the athletic field as in the lecture- 
room. No conflict of interests, no disturbing clique or fac- 



124 HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF >88. 

tion, has ever even threatened the ties which have made 
of us a unit. There is but one saddening thought as 
we meet for the last time. There is more than one well- 
known face missing, more than one who answers not at roll- 
call. Some are already out on the " world's broad field of 
battle," while others have spread their sails across that 
" shoreless sea whence no bark has ever turned its home- 
ward prow." As we glance at the past their memories 
linger still, and remind us of our earlier days. Let us hope 
that our lives may be marked by that same honesty of pur- 
pose which shows pre-eminent in the incidents which it has 
been my pleasant task to narrate. Once more, comrades, 
hail and farewell ! 

No more, loved Alma Mater, 

Thy pleasant halls we throng ; 
Today they loud re echo 

Our cheerful parting song. 

Thy memory ne'er can leave us 

By mount, or plain, or sea, 
So three rousing cheers, and a Tiger, boys, 

For the days of Eighty-three ! 



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